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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29486817">hope is the hardest love we carry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Consulting_Werewolf/pseuds/The_Consulting_Werewolf'>The_Consulting_Werewolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>EXO (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance, Smut, Yes Bright is Tencas's son here, dont ask my why</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:35:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,579</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29486817</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Consulting_Werewolf/pseuds/The_Consulting_Werewolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A hope carried over 45 years, a love that lingers, a past no one can forget.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Byun Baekhyun/Ji Hyeran | Z.Hera, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Huang Zi Tao | Z.Tao/Oh Sehun, Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Wu Yi Fan | Kris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. i. 2010</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>"hope is the hardest love we carry" -Jane Hirshfield</p><p>I hope y'all enjoy this Valentine's Day offering :')</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Junmyeon jerks awake when he hears tires crush the gravel outside and the doors to the house open loudly. He had dozed off on the sofa and he straightens himself as even louder footsteps follow. His grandchildren pour into the room with big grins and a chorus of “Happy birthday halabeoji!” They all jump on him at the same time and Junmyeon tries his best to hug them all, laughing loudly, “Thank you, thank you my darlings!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their parents, Junmyeon’s sons, follow and Sehun grumbles, “Ah, Yuqi, Gon, let your grandfather breathe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gon and Yuqi turn around in Junmyeon’s hold and pout at their appa. Junmyeon chuckles, “It’s okay, your old man won’t break easily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon’s youngest son still coaxes the kids off of him and says, “Oh yeah? Why did you refuse to come to Busan with us last month then? Uncle Minseok didn’t believe your excuse of joint pain at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon feels his face warming up. Baekhyun pops up from behind Sehun and giggles, “That’s because appa hates our uncle!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon feels his face getting hotter and hotter. He wags a finger at his sons, “Listen, every time I see my brother, he keeps trying to convince me to give up meat and sugar and I’m not doing that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun’s wife, Hyeran pipes up, “But appa, you’re sixty-four now, shouldn’t you be cutting out meat and sugar from your diet already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon narrows his eyes at her, “You all need to stop hanging out with my psychotic brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone laughs and Junmyeon finally notices the absence of his son-in-law. He asks Sehun, “Hun-ah, where’s Zitao?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehun smiles, “He’ll be here by dinner, don’t worry. He had to leave for Sokcho suddenly but he’ll be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon nods and again finds himself musing how far society has come. When Sehun came out to him at sixteen, the poor boy was so sure he would be abandoned by his parents. But Junmyeon and his late wife put their son’s happiness above everything else. Byuli missed out on Sehun marrying Zitao six years ago, but Junmyeon is sure she would have been so happy for him as well. All of this, however, still makes Junmyeon melancholy. Sure, there are still people who are bigoted but could a young Junmyeon have imagined that people of the same gender marrying was a possibility forty years ago? Life would have been different for a young Junmyeon then. He finds his mind trying to slip into the past and he has to drag it back to the present. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun and Sehun head for the kitchen where their old cook would be. Junmyeon knows the kids will bother Chorong and Chorong will try to throw them out but it will not work, it never did. She is much too soft on the kids. As expected, he hears Chorong shout, “Kim Sehun, you stay away from my eggs!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyeran laughs as she pulls her youngest, Jimin, to her lap. She wipes Jimin’s face and her voice softens as she says, “It’s so nice for us to be like this again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gon and Yuqi, and Baekhyun’s oldest, Taeyong, have already found their way to the backyard where they can be heard running about and playing. Junmyeon leans back into the couch and smiles a little, “Yes.” Then, he sighs, “This house is too big for me, Chorong and Minho, to be honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimin tries to leave her mother’s lap and Hyeran lets her with a firm warning, “Don’t stay in the sun too long, okay?” Jimin nods and follows her sibling and cousins outside. She turns to look at Junmyeon and say, “I’m trying to convince Baekhyun to come to live here, appa. I don’t like the thought of you here all alone.” She looks at her son and daughter through the big windows looking into the lawn, “Taeyong loves this house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon has always felt this profound feeling of kinship with his daughter-in-law. She is like the daughter he never had. He does adore both of his son’s spouses dearly but Hyeran has always read him right, even when Baekhyun could not. He does get lonely in this big house. He has always been here in the house his grandfather built. His brother, Minseok, left to expand their business and his sister, Joohyun, as it happens, married and left this house as well. Even his wife, Byuli, left him ten years ago, peacefully passing away in the night after battling cancer for years. All the rooms, the corridors, the vast windows and the old trees outside make Junmyeon feel hollow on the inside. His kids and grandchildren will stay this weekend and he will miss the noise they bring and take back with them when they will inevitably leave for their own homes. He does not hold that against them, however. They have their lives, their families. Sehun and Zitao have their own business but live a little bit closer than Baekhyun and Hyeran do. He is not ignored by any chance and they all come to visit him whenever they feel like and Junmyeon knows he is lucky because he knows how some of his other friends suffer negligence from their children. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he thanks his stars again, he reaches for her hand and Hyeran gives it with a big smile. He squeezes her hand and says, in a moment of vulnerability, “I’m not going to lie, I fear dying alone here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyeran chuckles softly, “Ah, appa, you’re only sixty-four! You have forty more years to go if you do listen to your brother!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon rolls his eyes, “Absolutely not. I want to die while I can still walk around and eat all the good food, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone screams outside and they both turn their heads, concerned. But everything seems alright, the kids are running around and the scream was probably Gon who looks alright with a massive grin on his face, so they return to their conversation. Junmyeon points at Jimin, “Is she okay? You were telling her to not stay in the sun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyeran smiles, “Just sore throat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon stands up with Hyeran’s help and says, “Come one, let’s ask Chorong to make some ginger tea. That solves everything, especially a sore throat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyeran nods and they walk towards the kitchen where they find Baekhyun covered in flour and Sehun busy taking pictures of that while Chorong is leaning against the counter with her hand over her forehead. Junmyeon sighs and shakes his head, “Nice to know nothing has changed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By dinnertime, as Sehun said in the afternoon, Zitao arrives and he arrives with a cake. Junmyeon sighs, “Was this necessary?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zitao chuckles, “Of course it was dear father-in-law!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The arrival of the cake is met with more excitement from the kids. The spread tonight is already extravagant enough. Chorong went all out this year and prepared not only Junmyeon’s favourites but also some of Sehun and Baekhyun’s. It is a proper feast and Junmyeon has to shake his head with a genial smile. His sixty-fourth is going well. He looks around the table, sitting at the head, and his heart swells with affection for his sons and his grandchildren.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyeran struggles to feed Taeyong some vegetables as Zitao tries to stop Gon from drowning his food in ketchup. Junmyeon remembers a time when his children were the same too. Sehun would not eat anything but shrimp for weeks when he was ten. Baekhyun would not drink milk after he learned where it came from when he was nine. Sometimes, they would drive Junmyeon and Byuli right up the wall with their little quirks and tantrums. Suddenly, Junmyeon’s heart twists. Byuli, his beloved wife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byuli, the woman his father arranged his marriage with. Junmyeon was against it, so incredibly against it. He refused to meet her, refused to even accept her. Then, when they finally met, he learned they shared something in common: they both loved someone they should not have. The world was different then, harsher too. Byuli agreed to this marriage to fix her relationship with her mother, so Junmyeon later agreed to save his relationship with his father. And it was not easy for either. They did not feel love nor any desire in the beginning. How could they? It took them many years to get to know one another and slowly, ever-so-slowly get closer. Baekhyun arrived first and then, two years later, Sehun. They decided to not try for a third one. Their family felt complete. And did they love each other in the thirty-one years they shared? Of course, they did. They grew into their love though Junmyeon knew he never truly had all of her heart just like she never did with his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could you give yourself to another when so much of it already belonged to someone else? Junmyeon knows it wasn’t easy and Byuli knew it too. But they made it work for so long. He was never alone before her death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Appa,” Baekhyun calls, noticing how his father had zoned out. “You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon is called back to the present by his eldest and he smiles, “Just thinking about your mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun’s smile softens. He reaches forward and covers Junmyeon’s hand with his. He says, “I miss her too, especially when we’re all together like this.”  The table is noisy with the kids shouting and their parents trying to make them eat the food properly. Baekhyun had given up on convincing Jimin that she needs to eat more than the cucumber salad and turned to this father, who was sitting there with a soft smile and a faraway look in his eyes. The mention of his mother makes Baekhyun sad for a moment. He turns to gaze at his children and say, “She would like this a lot, wouldn’t she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon nods, “She would, Baek, she would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After dinner is cleared, the cake is brought out and since sixty-four candles could become a fire hazard, they stick to six. Junmyeon lets his grandchildren blow the candles for him and he does not really have any wishes, except one…It’s been too long, Junmyeon wonders…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cake gets demolished soon after and Baekhyun and Sehun follow their spouses to help put the kids to bed. They do request to be allowed to stay up for longer but it becomes non-negotiable, even when they turn to their grandfather to advocate for them. As Junmyeon is left alone again, he gets himself a glass of neat whiskey and retreats to his study for a moment. He knows he received some parcels and he wants to sort them out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The parcels are mostly from his brother, sister, nieces and nephews. Some are also from his friends from other cities and countries. He smiles as he goes through each one of them. The door creaks open behind him and he turns to find Sehun and Baekhyun, the former says, “Appa? We thought you went to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon picks up a birthday card and smiles, “Not yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun whistles at the stack, “That’s quite the loot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon hits Baekhyun lightly over his head with the birthday card, “I wonder why they keep sending me gifts when I tell them every year not to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehun and Baekhyun have the gall to look embarrassed as they look away. Junmyeon knows how much his sons worry about leaving him alone on birthdays. They get all their uncles and aunts to send gifts and cards. Sehun wanders off to the side of the room where Junmyeon has stacked a mishmash of miscellaneous items. Junmyeon tells himself he will sort them one day, but that one day has not arrived in all the decades he has lived here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are a few paintings on the floor and as Sehun goes through one by one, he is surprised to find a small box at the very end. It seems like it was used to keep the paintings upright and not slide down to the floor. It is a very pretty box when Sehun brings it to light. He frowns when he cleans the dust collected on the characters carved on the top. They are Chinese. And since he is fairly fluent, he can read the top. It is just initials—a W and a Y.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brings it over to his father and brother and asks, “Appa, what’s this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon’s gaze falls on the box and immediately, his knees wobble. He leans against the table and with shaking hands, takes the box from Sehun. He runs his fingers over the W and Y on top and his eyes well up. The hollow feeling all day suddenly is overwhelmed by an ocean of regret and heartbreak. Baekhyun and Sehun huddle around their father, worried that perhaps the dust led to some reaction, Baekhyun even asks, “Appa, you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon does not answer. He goes over to the chair behind the desk and he sits down with a sigh. He begins to silently sob as the memories start taking proper shape and play in his head like a forgotten film. He opens the lid and the tears blur his vision. The letter is still there, so is the cut sleeve. They have both yellowed over the years. As Junmyeon touches them, the roughness of the paper and the smoothness of the linen, he cries and cries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun and Sehun share a look and wonder why those old things in a box have their father so upset. They have not seen Junmyeon cry like this since their mother’s passing. Sehun walks around the desk and falls to his knees beside his father, putting his hand on Junmyeon’s forearm and gently asks, “Appa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon scrubs his face. He thought he was over the pain but it is back because it never truly left him, did he? Even though forty-five years have passed. He closes the lid and says, “Can, can you two help me find someone?” Junmyeon knows what he wants to do now is mad, absolutely ridiculous but he has to try. It is as if the sudden reappearance of the past he keeps trying to bury exposed him to the true want of his heart, to what he often wished for. He looks at Sehun once, who nods, and then he looks at Baekhyun, who also nods. Junmyeon continues, “I need you to find someone named Wu Yifan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun frowns because the name rings a bell. He says, “Wu Yifan? You mean the artist who painted that family portrait in the foyer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon nods and Sehun adds, “Didn’t he also paint uncle Minseok and aunty Joohyun?” Junmyeon nods again. Sehun suddenly muses out loud, “But did he never paint you appa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon smiles; he knows that inside the box, tucked with the letter is the rough sketch of a painting that never existed. If the artist had painted it, put it on a canvas, Junmyeon’s father would have surely burnt the whole thing. He says to his sons, however, “He tried.” Then he laughs, “But your grandfather would never let that happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun and Sehun share another confused glance. Baekhyun walks up to his father and puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling, “Don’t worry appa, we will find this man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon nods, clutching the box, “Thank you.” Junmyeon rubs his face and says, "Thank you, really." He smiles a little, "Don't tell this to your families, ok? Keep this between us, ok?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sons solemnly nod, though they are now burning with curiosity. Why did their father get so emotional over an old box?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. i. 1965</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The tall, young man stands under the shade of the tree and looks up again, wondering if he is indeed at the right address. He just began his foray into this trade, so he finds it hard to believe that someone this rich, this influential would hire to make portraits of his family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan will not lie to himself. He had gained some fame after the series he did for the Bong family and his teacher did say that once you find a rich client, doors open. And as a young foreigner living in Seoul, he is happy for whatever opportunity. A degree in fine art may not mean much but Yifan knows that if he sticks to it, he will find success. At twenty-two, he has not learned to give up hope yet. He does not have ties back to his homeland anymore. The world is his oyster now, he can go anywhere he wants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He checks the address for the last time on the small card he carries. He is in the right place. He steps forward and rings the bell. The doors are massive, made of iron and a guard scurries forward, query on the tip of his tongue and Yifan beats him to it, "I am Wu Yifan. I have an appointment with Kim Jongho-sshi." The guard nods and Yifan breathes a sigh of relief when the door opens. So, the appointment is perhaps not a complete hoax. He hikes his canvas bag higher on his shoulder and follows the guard. There are huge trees shading the gravel path and even in the strong May heat, the place is cool. The house in front of him is massive, in the traditional Korean style. There is another man waiting at the gate, who takes over and Yifan now follows him down clean corridors and into the living room. The man of the house, Jongho, awaits him. Kim Jongho is shorter than Yifan but his personality can fill the biggest room. He is firm, serious and Yifan is sure the man doesn't smile. Yifan, like everyone else in this country, knows who this man is. Among the top five richest men, Kim Jongho strikes a little fear in Yifan’s heart right now. If he can successfully accomplish what this man wants, there would be no looking back for him. Maybe, after the hefty commission he gets from this, Yifan can finally make way to Europe…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho tells Yifan to sit and says, “You look far younger than what I expected.” Yifan is about to open his mouth and try to explain his age does not define his experience or skills when Jongho waves his hand and says, “But that’s not a measure for talent. I saw what you did for the Bongs; it was truly impressive.” An old woman arrives with tea and silently places them on the table. Yifan is handed a saucer and the tea smells expensive. He does not take a sip until Jongho does. He is new to etiquette but the months spent at the Bong family house really helped. So, he drinks after Jongho and waits patiently for him to finish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho crosses his legs and says, “So, I will pay you half of it now, you know, for any supplies you would need. And the rest when you’re finished. I need a total of six portraits. Three of my children, one for me, one for my wife and one for the whole family. Think you can manage that?” When Yifan nods, he says, “I’m not giving you any time limit and Bong says you’re a steady worker. I’m not bothered with speed as long as it turns out well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan finally speaks, “Of course, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho says, waving his hand again, “Good. Now for payment,” he mentions a price tag that makes Yifan’s soul tremble. He could definitely pay passage for Paris with that money. “Will that suffice, young man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan nods again, “Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” He shouts next, “Missus Han!” The woman who arrived with the tea returns and bows. “Show our young artist to his rooms and bring him down to lunch when it’s time.” He turns to look at Yifan, “You will meet my family at the lunch table.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan nods again; he cannot say much. He understands Jongho is not someone who is accustomed to listening to others, he prefers others to listen </span>
  <em>
    <span>to him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Yifan bows again and grabbing his meagre belongings, follows Mrs Han down even more corridors, still on the ground floor. They walk to the very back of the house, and Mrs Han smiles, “We have a sunroom here. The master thought it’d be best for your work. We have prepared you a studio and bedroom in one room. I hope you like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, the woman opens the door and Yifan’s jaw almost drops. The sunroom is massive and looks into the garden, which is lush and precisely maintained. With a screen, the studio part has been divided from the bed. The ceiling is high here and his bed is pushed in the corner, hidden from view of the windows. Mrs Han shows him the curtains and how to open and close them so Yifan can get some privacy. She also shows him the bathroom, which is at some distance from the sunroom and is tucked at the corner of the backstairs that lead to the first floor. The kitchen is close by and Mrs Han tells him with a kind smile, “The kitchen’s been instructed to let you come whenever you want. So, if you need anything at all, Chorong and I will help you.” She rakes her gaze over Yifan’s slim and long body and clicks her tongue, “Oh my dear, you’re only bones. Have you eaten anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan gets sheepish as he scratches his neck. “Just coffee for breakfast missus Han.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman looks affronted by the news and gasps, “Dear God, freshen up and come over to the kitchen! I will fix you something small before lunch!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan wants to refuse this generous offering but right then, his stomach makes a sound and Mrs Han chuckles as she leaves him to settle in. He takes stock of his surroundings again. The sunroom is spacious, airy and so light. There are a few potted plants here and there but it is mostly bare. His bed is soft when he sits on and so is the sofa chair. He appreciates the bedside table and the small shelf tucked behind the chair. He can keep his books here. He also notices the wood and rolled canvas in one corner. Good, the master of the house remembered to furnish him with the correct supplies. Yifan decides he will build the frames in the next two days and roughly sketch the family members in the succeeding days. Family portraits, though going out of fashion, is still sort of a status symbol for the ridiculously rich, so Yifan fathoms the Kims would want the paintings to be as big as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he has unpacked his things, he does as he was told and finds Mrs Han in the kitchen laughing with a young girl. She has long, waist-length hair and smooth, clear skin. Yifan wonders if this is Chorong and he wonders if she is Mrs Han’s granddaughter. There is some similarity. The young girl notices his presence and turns around, grinning, “Ah, you must be mister Wu. Please come in, I’m Chorong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs Han then places a small bowl of fruits and a plate of toasted bread. He also gets a glass of milk and he happily eats them all. He was hungrier than he thought. He learns he was right about Chorong and Mrs Han being related, they are granddaughter and grandmother. Chorong is sixteen and she is in high school and she enjoys working here. She leans closer and in a whisper says, “You haven’t met Joohyun noona, have you?” When Yifan shakes his head, she giggles, “Oh, she’s so pretty, the prettiest girl in the whole city!” She claps her hand over her mouth and giggles louder, “Men line up for her hand, even though she says she won’t marry till she finishes her college education!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs Han adds with a small chuckle, “The master agrees with her but the mistress worries. Twenty is a worrisome age, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan nods; he has seen this in the Bong household too. The Kim have one daughter but the Bongs had four. The oldest was twenty-four and already getting enough pressure about children now that she was married. The youngest was fourteen and she was mostly left to her own devices. However, the second to last one was twenty and Yifan still shudders to think how much she wanted to throw herself at him even though her male admirers would drop in every day and glare daggers at him. Yifan, therefore, knows where Chorong is going next when she winks at him, “Be careful, mister Wu. Our Joohyun noona is already somewhat taken.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan grins as he takes a sip of the milk. It is creamy and cool and he does not think he had ever drunk milk this good. He leans over and whispers, “Don’t worry. I’m immune to all beauties.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chorong pouts, “Do you only see beautiful people as pictures then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan laughs, “Yes, I think so.” The truth, however, would stupefy Chorong’s simple mind. Yifan simply does not care for women. Even though his truth is largely taboo in society, Yifan knows himself a little better now. If Bong’s daughters could not move him, he knows Kim Joohyun would not either, no matter how beautiful.  He changes the topic and asks, “So, there’s Miss Kim Joohyun and two other sons, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chorong clears Yifan’s empty dishes and nods, “Yes, young masters Minseok and Junmyeon. Minseok hyung turned twenty-five this year and will probably marry next year. He will follow in the master’s footsteps. Junmyeon hyung joined college this spring, he is turning nineteen in two weeks!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thanks them for the meal and then makes his way back to his room. He rolls his neck and sits down on his bed, smiling at his new lodgings. He feels blessed for this opportunity, he truly does. He takes out his small sketchbook next and ambles over to the windows. He opens one and dangling his feet outside, he starts sketching the garden. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When lunch hour arrives, Yifan is shown the way to the dining room by Chorong. Jongho is already here and a woman is sitting on his right. Yifan assumes she must be Kim Eunyon, the matriarch of the household. He hesitates a little when he cannot figure out where to sit. The table is quite long with chairs to seat up to fifteen people. He knows he cannot sit on the head of the household’s left and neither can he sit beside Eunyon. His problem is solved when Eunyon stands up and touches his elbow with a kind smile. “Yifan, right?” she says, “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Eunyon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan bows, “Nice to meet you too, madam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, sit here,” she shows him to the third chair from Jongho’s left. He waits until Eunyon is back in her seat and only sits down then. She is beaming at him, “Oh, you’re too well-mannered!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan feels his whole face warming up, even the roots of his hair sizzle. But there are footsteps and a young woman enters the room. And judging by her obvious beauty,, Yifan surmises she must be Joohyun. She looks at Yifan and smirks, “Ah, mister artist!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho clears his throat, “Joohyun, greet him properly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan stands up again and Joohyun extends her hand. They shake and Yifan notes how soft her hand is. She grins, “I’m Joohyun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yifan, nice to meet you,” Yifan bows his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next, a man enters the room and he is of short stature with closely cropped hair. Judging by his face structure, Yifan surmises he is older than him and must be the oldest son. His guess is right when the man takes the first seat on Jongho’s left introduces himself as Minseok.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho frowns, “Where’s Junmyeon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eunyon repeats the question to Joohyun, who shrugs, “He had his nose buried in his book the last I saw him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eunyon is about to leave her seat to find her youngest child when the teenager in questions arrives himself. Yifan turns his head around a bit to look and his lips part as he lays his eyes on Kim Junmyeon for the first time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan has seen many faces but he does not think he has seen a face more beautiful than the one in front of him. Dark hair drapes over sharp eyebrows and deep, gentle brown eyes. His skin is smooth and flushed the lightest peach, probably flustered about his tardiness. As Junmyeon sits down beside Yifan, he turns his head and his eyes widen a little. Yifan bows his head, even though he is unable to look away. For some strange reason, so is Junmyeon, who also bows his head, muttering, “You must be Wu Yifan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan says, suddenly feeling so breathless, “Yes, pleased to make your acquaintance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon smiles a little, his cheeks getting redder, “Likewise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is thunder in Yifan’s heart and cold sweat collects on his nape. Junmyeon is so close and he smells like old books and ink. As lunch is served, Eunyon and Joohyun keep the conversation flowing but Yifan is only aware of the man sitting beside him. It is like all his nerves, every atom of his being is striving towards Junmyeon. Yifan takes a peek and to his surprise, he finds Junmyeon jerking his head away and his ears turn pink. Yifan looks at his hands—even Junmyeon’s fingertips are pink. There is a predicament of danger in the air but when their hands accidentally brush on the tabletop, Yifan ignores it, falling headfirst into clear brown eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon watches the sun descend, changing the sky from a cerulean to a fiery orange as he sits on the ledge of the window. He rubs his lower lip and thinks about the artist now living under their roof. Wu Yifan. He mumbles the name to himself a few times and smiles. He was expecting some old, wizened artist but instead, there was Adonis sitting at the lunch table today. He peeks down and though the sunroom is not directly under his room, he can see the big windows. The lights turn on and Yifan shows up near one of the windows. He opens it and a light summer breeze picks up his long bangs and messes them all up. The same summer breeze lightly kisses Junmyeon’s cheeks, which are warm as his heart races. Junmyeon bites down on his lip. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is this sensation?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan, perhaps, feels eyes on him, so he turns his head around and looks up. His surprise is evident when his eyes widen and a big smile lights up his face. Junmyeon, too, should have shown more decorum and not ogle at the man like that, but he finds his bearings and waves his hand with a smile. Yifan waves back. Junmyeon thinks, well, maybe proper introductions are in order. He looks at his books lying on the study table and decides they can wait for some time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jumps down from the ledge and heads downstairs. He takes a peek into the kitchen and finds it abuzz with the evening tea preparations. He quietly pads towards the sunroom and knocks on the closed door. Yifan opens it on the second knock and Junmyeon words get lost on his tongue for a moment. He did not notice before but Yifan has stripped down to his undershirt. His pants are still on but Junmyeon gets stuck on Yifan’s shoulders and collarbones. Yifan is broad and tanned and Junmyeon muses if anyone has ever drawn the artist. He swallows and says, “Uh, hello, may I come in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan moves to the side and understands Junmyeon looking at his chest as a mark against his behaviour and he quickly grabs his shirt that he abandoned on his bed. Goodness, where did his manners leave him? He showed up at the door nearly naked in front of his patron’s son! He wears it as Junmyeon ambles into the studio. Yifan had started work on building the frames already. Eunyon has shown him the rooms the painting would go in and even handed him the precise measurements, thus reducing some of Yifan’s work—and he was so grateful. He will start with the family portrait first, so Junmyeon walks over to the biggest canvas. He touches the frame and asks, “Have you been painting for long, mister Wu?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please call me Yifan.” Yifan joins him and replies to the question Junmyeon asked, “Well, I picked up a pencil when I was four, but professionally, it has only been two years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon smiles, “That’s incredible.” His gaze lands on the sketchbook on the table under the window and points at it, “Can I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan nods, crossing his hands behind him, “Of course, go ahead!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon picks the leather-bound sketchbook up and starts browsing through it. They are all ink or pencil drawings and display Yifan’s immense talents. There are buildings, trees, lakes, rivers, birds, people and as Junmyeon flips through it, he finds pictures of the house, the garden. He smiles at a close detail of a flower and says, “You’re pretty amazing.” He looks at Yifan and tilts his head to the side, “Can I ask you for something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan nods, “Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon points at a sketch of an old man that Yifan coloured with watercolours. “I want you to draw me like this. You will have to do as my father says but I think I prefer this style of yours more.” He follows the lines of wrinkles Yifan so meticulously drew and whispers, “This style feels more personal, more delicate.” He chuckles next when he finds Yifan looking at him in confusion, “I don’t like how stuffy oil paintings are! Though some are great, I always liked cleaner lines,” he shows Yifan the old man, “Like this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan understands Junmyeon and he chuckles, scratching his nape. “Okay, I’ll try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon widens his eyes and he grins widely, “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan watches how Junmyeon glows and how his eyes twinkle and Yifan finds his voice dropping as he says, “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon hands him the sketchbook back and says, “And don’t worry, I’m commissioning you for this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan waves his hand, “No, it’s okay. Consider this as a gift.” When Junmyeon throws him a confused glance, Yifan crosses his arms and smiles, “I hear it’s your birthday in two weeks, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon feels his face warming up and he looks to the side as he mutters, “Thank, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan does not know why he did what he did. He is not known to just offer his services for free, not since his high school years. But there was something about the way Junmyeon implored him with his eyes and toothy smile. Yifan takes a deep breath, trying to pace himself. He cannot afford to do anything stupid here, particularly when Junmyeon is nothing like him and he needs the money from this work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet, it is difficult when Junmyeon looks like someone Yifan could dedicate a hundred pictures too. Even though Junmyeon is dressed in a simple half-sleeved white shirt and grey trousers, his handsome profile and his shy demeanour are so endearing. Yifan clears his throat and he is about to say something in return to Junmyeon’s gratitude when the door creaks open and Mrs Han calls, “Yifan,” she notices Junmyeon, “Ah, young master is also here. There are tea and snacks in the kitchen. Would you like to take them here or in the parlour?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon answers for them, “It’s okay aunty, we can take it here,” he glances at Yifan, “If it’s no problem.” Yifan shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That evening, as Yifan and Junmyeon drink their green tea and eat the hotcakes Mrs Han made, they talk about Yifan, his life, his hometown, his school. Junmyeon too shares about himself, how he is pursuing a degree in law, how much his father wants Minseok to expand their business more. Yifan finds it extremely easy to talk with Junmyeon, despite the obvious difference in their economic backgrounds and social class. As the purple skies outside deepen into the inky blackness of the night and the stars peek out from the clouds, they are lost in their own little world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Life falls into a routine at the Kim mansion. Yifan finishes building the frames and even the rough sketches. He does not put his models through hours of sitting still for him because he can rely well on his memories and his “rough” sketches are always elaborate and detailed, complete with every note and remark he makes when sketching. The family portrait was easier to sketch the solo ones, particularly for Joohyun and Jongho. The former could hardly still and kept on chattering, talking about everything and everyone, from her college to her four friends. Yifan understood she actually does not get to interact a whole lot with people of the opposite gender, especially when she went to an all-girls’ private school and college, with finishing school on the side. And he knows he looks handsome enough, so it was just her trying to acquaint herself with his sex than anything else. She even remarked once, “If all the men out there are as quiet as you, I think I would like that a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet, she was easy to converse too in a way. So, Yifan too would ask her questions, “Do you have a beau then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joohyun blushes prettily as she giggles, “Well, not really. He is the youngest son of one of my father’s friends and we met only twice but we write to each other, a lot. He had to go to Germany to finish his education but he says he will marry me once he returns.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan realises the object of her affection is from her circle. He assumes, “Then, I suppose your parents know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joohyun nods but she has a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Only my mother and Junmyeon. But I don’t think father will mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sketching Kim Jongho was a struggle. He would not sit for more than thirty minutes at most and his sketch took the longest for Yifan to complete. Minseok was a breeze, so was Eunyon’s. But then, when it was Junmyeon’s turn, Yifan was anxious. He knows how sometimes an artist’s feelings spill onto the canvas unintentionally and Yifan was afraid to be too obvious. He knows Junmyeon does not swing that way and their friendship is pleasant, if not a little distant. Yifan is fine with that. He knows that even if Junmyeon felt the same, nothing would ever come out of it. Still, the grip on his pencil as he sketched Junmyeon was too crushing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon kept his gaze steady and his smile measured but there was something in that clear gaze. Yifan was reminded of summer nights that are chased by the autumn bite. It reminded of walks in the nights one would take to cool off from the heat of the day. And Junmyeon’s skin, Yifan saw he got it from his mother (his sister too got it from their mother) but it was far more luminous, more peach than pale. Yifan wanted to test if it was as smooth as newly blended oil paints. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan took his time but then again, he needed Junmyeon for two drawings anyway. At Junmyeon’s suggestion, they went outside for the second one. They could not obviously work in the dark and since Junmyeon could only give him time after he returned from college, they had that sliver of time between afternoon and twilight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon chose a short-sleeved shirt and dark blue pants for the other drawing. He would sit on a chair in the waning sun and Yifan would sit in the shadows. They chose the rose shrubs as the background and as Junmyeon would get more and more heated in the sun, he would pop open the first two buttons, then the third and then the fourth. Yifan would glimpse pale skin, untouched by the sun and he would see how the sweat would roll down his chin, his throat, the hollow of his throat and down, further down. Yifan would have to look away and swallow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They talked a lot during these moments. Junmyeon would talk about the world. They talked about the things happening in Japan, China, the United States. They would talk about music and when they both learned they like the Beatles, Junmyeon pulled out a portable record player one day and as Yifan put colours in his sketch, they listened to Beatles For Sale back to back. When Yifan hummed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Baby’s In Black</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Junmyeon insisted to be a little bit louder. Yifan laughed, put out his cigarette, and complied with the request. When he finished the song, Junmyeon put his face in his palm and smiles at Yifan, “You have a nice voice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan could do nothing else but blush. Junmyeon said, “I know this might feel weird, but do you want to go somewhere with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that is why, a day before Junmyeon’s birthday, Yifan is standing in front of his closet and losing his mind. He did not pack a whole lot of clothes and he wonders how any of them could stand up to Junmyeon and whatever his friends would wear. Junmyeon had said to not worry about the outfit. It was just a student’s music club performance, nothing too extravagant. After struggling for some time, Yifan sticks to his white summer shirt and light blue plaid pants. This is the dressiest item in his closet, to be honest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For his hair, he does not do much except comb them back. He should get a haircut sooner than later. He splashes some cologne and tells himself that this will have to do. He does have free movement in and out of the house (and all he has done is to go out and buy paint and cigarettes) but he suddenly asks himself if it will be quite alright to go outside with the young master of the house. Before he can get cold feet from doubting too much, there is a knock on his door and creaks open to Junmyeon peeking in. He steps inside and looks at Yifan with a pleased smile, “Whoa, you clean up real well, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan narrows his eyes; he knows he is being teased. But he cannot blame Junmyeon for it. All he wears around when working is his overalls and an undershirt with his hair in a messy ponytail. He looks at Junmyeon as well. Junmyeon is dressed in a black polo shirt and cream trousers that are perfectly ironed. He looks handsome in this casual getup and Yifan is glad he put on what he did. Yifan crosses his arms and grins, “I guess you’ll do as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon rolls his eyes and tells him, “Come on, we need to be there by six.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they walk towards the garage where Junmyeon keeps his car (an imported one from Germany), Yifan muses about the way they have become so comfortable with each other. Though none of the Kim siblings are stuck-ups or extremely snobbish, Yifan is the most at ease with Junmyeon, and it is not even dependent on Yifan’s attraction towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joohyun is easy-going and since she is so enamoured by her beau, she treats Yifan as she would treat a friend. Minseok does talk to him whenever they find each other in the same space but Yifan understands the oldest Kim sibling is usually soft-spoken and sort of shy around others (not so much when he is in the presence of his siblings). Junmyeon, however, has gotten too close to Yifan in the few days Yifan has been here. As they ride through the Seoul streets, Yifan thinks about a certain night three nights ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan is up still. He has heard the grandfather clock strike midnight in the living room. The sound had been so loud in the silence of this hour, like Hypnos reminding the world at large that this was the hour of rest not work. But Yifan could not sleep; he is done with the first layer of paint for the family portrait, so he decided to begin with creating depth and shadows. Mrs Han is probably psychic because she showed him where she keeps the coffee in the kitchen a week ago, so Yifan made himself a good cup of it and sat down to paint.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>An hour in, he has only managed to finish Kim Eunyon. He is struggling a little to capture the vibrant emerald green silk dress she had worn. It was a little old-fashioned with the high collar and billowy sleeves. It reminds Yifan of the women in paintings from the 1910s. As he contemplates adding more blue, the door creaks open. Yifan turns around and finds Junmyeon peeking in with a small smile, “I saw the lights were turned on.” He enters and comes to stand beside Yifan, “I hope you don’t mind.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan laughs, “It’s alright!” He stretches a little, enjoying the way the cricks in his muscles dissolve. “Don’t you have class tomorrow?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon peers closer at the painting, murmuring, “A late morning class only.” He turns his head around and smiles, “You’re so good, Yifan. This green is so lovely.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan widens his eyes, “You think so?” He pouts, “I think it should be more blue.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon shakes his head, “It’s actually very close to the real dress.” He looks back at the canvas, “The dress belonged to my grandmother.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan nods, “Ah, that’s why it reminded me of a magazine illustration from 1910!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon smiles at him, looking the tiniest bit impressed, “Are illustrations also something of interest to you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan nods, crossing his arms, “Of course it is. Art is art. I don’t look down on commercial artists. To create content like that is also commendable.” He tilts his head to the side, “Maybe, one day, I’ll try my hands at it too.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon’s eyes sparkle when he says, “And I’m sure you’ll excel at it too!” Yifan feels his face warming up at the praise. Junmyeon puts his hand inside the pocket of his sleeping pyjamas and asks, “Want to take a break? I was heading outside to smoke.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan nods, “Sure, let’s go.” He could do with the break; he had been sitting on this stool and painting nonstop for an hour, surrounded by the fumes of linseed and turpentine oil. He could do with some fresh air. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He recently learned that Junmyeon smokes and he did not really think he did, considering how pink his lips were. But Junmyeon soon informed him he is not much of a chain smoker, usually is a social smoker and keeps a packet close by when he is stressed out. Yifan is not yet a smoking chimney himself, limiting himself to one a day. Junmyeon clicked his tongue at it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They head towards the garden, to the left of the house where the bedrooms are not situated. Jongho does not approve of smoking in the house, so Junmyeon and Minseok take great care to not smoke around their father. They sit down on the grass and watch fireflies dance in the summer night accompanied by the crickets chirping in the bushes. It is a sultry night but there is a pleasant breeze blowing, so it is not uncomfortable. They light their cigarettes and share their silence. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon is done with his cigarette and he flops down on his back. Yifan takes his time and asks, “So, what’s with you now?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon sighs, “My future.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan looks over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow, “Your future?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon nods, “Mine and everyone else’s, I guess.” He lets silence follow his words and Yifan lets it happen, realising Junmyeon needs time to form his sentences. “A friend of mine, a former schoolmate, recently enlisted. I have this strange fear I might not see him again.” Junmyeon follows the circles a firefly makes before dropping his voice lower, “I’ll have to go one day as well. I know my father will pull strings to make sure I don’t actively serve, like he did for hyung, but why Yifan? Why must we fight?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan knows how Junmyeon feels. He had experienced war up close and personally—even though it was largely second-hand. He finishes his cigarette and he extinguishes it in the soil. He pulls his knees and puts his chin on his knee as he says, “When I was seven, some people took away my father in the dead of the night and he never returned. My mother then left me with an aunt in Taiwan and I haven’t also seen her since. Is she alive? Is she dead? I don’t know. They were deserters in the civil war. While I’m sure they killed my father, I’m not so sure of my mother. Though, I have this feeling she might be in India. That’s where some of them went, hunted by Mao’s soldiers.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon asks, “How did you end up here then?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan replies, “In Taiwan, I was sent to a missionary college. Hated how they tried to shove Christianity down my throat but I sucked it up. Our art teacher was a good woman and she gave me space to find my peace. She was the one who suggested I come here, even though the war is an everyday ordeal here but I know I’m safer here than in China.” He smiles up at the stars blinking in the clear sky, “I’m the son of traitors. I don’t think I could’ve made an honest living in China. I don’t think I can even be alright with the fact that I’m mostly orphaned because of them.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan hears Junmyeon sitting up and then he feels a warm hand on his back. He hears the younger man say, “It’s not fair. It’s absolutely not fair that ten minutes or ten hours of fighting is what decides the future of millions unborn.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan agrees with a sigh, “It’s unfair indeed that these brief moments of violence will decide who rules who for generations to come. Nothing could be a greater injustice, yet such has been the reality ever since human beings first walked the earth.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They fall into silence again. The sounds of their breathing are only punctuated by the crickets and the occasional nightbird calling. Yifan eventually asks, “When are you enlisting?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon answers, “The end of this year, most probably.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan turns his head and smiles, “Then I’ll try to finish your painting before you go, I promise.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon grins, “You don’t need to do that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t mind.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon looks away and even in the darkness, Yifan can tell he must be blushing. Oh, how lovely this boy is when he gets all flustered! Yifan wants to capture that, put in a secret corner of his heart to cherish forever. Again, they do not talk for some time till Junmyeon asks, “And where will you go after this?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan smiles, “Well, I think I may finally be able to go to Paris. I have been saving for two years now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon straightens up and leans closer, “Really? Paris? That’s so awesome!” He puts his hand on Yifan’s arm and says, “Oh my god, I can so imagine you in a city like that. Looking all handsome and cool, standing by an easel with a cigarette dangling from your lips!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan rolls his eyes because he knows Junmyeon is also teasing him slightly. He lightly shoves him and says, “Yeah, yeah sure.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon continues, pushing his shoulder into Yifan, “And you’ll be surrounded by all the prettiest Parisienne women, then getting ridiculously fat on the pastries.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan chuckles; there is some irony in Junmyeon’s assumption of his sexuality but he does not comment on that. “Of course.” He wants to humour Junmyeon. “And what else?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Junmyeon rubs his chin and scrunches his eyebrows as if in deep thought. “The art critics will hail you and maybe Salvador Dali will invite you to lunch.” As Yifan laughs uproariously, Junmyeon quietens and Yifan misses the way Junmyeon looks at him. When Yifan has calmed down somewhat, Junmyeon says, this time in a softer voice, “But, seriously. You’ll be so famous one day, I know you will.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yifan licks his lips. The sincerity cannot be missed in Junmyeon’s voice. He casts his eyes downwards as he mumbles, “Thank you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lost in his thoughts, Yifan does not notice the journey or the way Junmyeon keeps stealing looks at him, wondering why the other is so quiet. Not that Junmyeon has seen Yifan being the most loquacious but Junmyeon notices the slight smile on Yifan’s lips and he wonders what, or rather who, the other man is thinking of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks good tonight, Junmyeon thinks, but then again when does he not? Junmyeon is not blind or absolutely ignorant of the confusion Yifan creates for him. Of course, the older man does not know or does anything willingly but every look, every smile directed at Junmyeon makes his heart beat a little faster, a little louder. He knows it is an attraction, but he has never been attracted to a man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? There was his older brother’s friend once upon a time. But Junmyeon, back then, at fifteen, had chalked up his attraction to Lu Han due to his ever-so feminine features and fae-like countenance. Again, that is a lie too, isn’t it? Lu Han was strong and Minseok would never win a football game against him. Junmyeon cannot blame it on appearances alone. Especially now when Yifan is taller than him, broader than him and his eyes hold a maturity that fascinates Junmyeon. How does it feel to be so sure of oneself? The older man is comfortable in his skin and here Junmyeon’s skin itches, knowing he lies and he lies to himself every day. That the duality he has concocted keeps him on the edge, worried someone will see him for who he is and then everything will crumble like sandcastles. He is attracted to Yifan, he knows that. But he also knows he cannot do anything about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world, after all, is an unfair place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They reach the club and Yifan turns to look at Junmyeon as the latter looks for a place to park his car. He says, “I think I have passed by this building before. Never thought I’d ever get to see its insides!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon smiles as he backs the car into the space between two convertibles, “It’s nothing too flashy, thank god.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan shakes his head, “I like simple designs. Too much is cluttering, it draws the attention in too many different directions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, when you talk like that,” Junmyeon grins, “It goes over my head like this.” He mimics an airplane flying over his head. Yifan laughs out loudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is dark where Junmyeon parks his car but the lamppost manages to extend a little bit of its light into the car and it mostly falls on Yifan. Junmyeon feels his chest tighten when he sees the way Yifan throws his head to laugh, exposing his sun-kissed neck. Junmyeon notes Yifan left the first three buttons open, so he glimpses a clavicle and more flawless skin and his mouth turns dry. He quickly looks away, fighting to keep the nonchalant smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, there is a loud rap on Junmyeon’s window and he jumps a little before turning his head. He smiles when he recognises the floppy-haired man smiling at him. Junmyeon opens his door and so does Yifan and a tall man (nearly as tall as Yifan) pulls Junmyeon into a hug. They pat each other's backs and Junmyeon introduces, “Yifan, meet Chanyeol, the guitarist of Electric Kiss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan reaches at the same Chanyeol does and they shake hands. Chanyeol beams, “Ah, I have heard plenty of you from Junmyeon! We can’t wait to see your work either!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan feels his face getting warm at Chanyeol’s words and he says, “Well, I hope to not disappoint then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon shakes his head with a small smile, “Hmm, you could never.” Junmyeon quickly looks away after he says those words. He is so in awe of Yifan, so utterly taken by everything the man does—and he is so afraid of Yifan seeing all of that in his eyes. He throws an arm around Chanyeol and chuckles, “So, why are you out here, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol raises a hand and Junmyeon sees the lighter in it. “A smoke break. Jongdae is doing warm-ups and I just can’t stand those.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chanyeol?” a woman calls and they all turn their heads to the side to find a petite woman with long dark hair wave her hand. “Jongdae is done and everyone’s looking for you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Chaeyoung!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chaeyoung notices Junmyeon and she waves at him, grinning, “Ah, oppa, you’re already here! We’re all waiting inside.” She also notices Yifan and bows at him, still smiling, “And you must be Wu Yifan, the artist. Please don’t run away after we’re done, we all want to meet you too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan sends Junmyeon a look and Junmyeon answers, “They all are very interested to meet you. They have never met an artist before, so…” Yifan shakes his head in amusement. Chanyeol follows Chaeyoung and Junmyeon continues, “That was Park Chaeyoung, Chanyeol’s girlfriend. She’s the bassist. The one you heard of, Jongdae? He’s my friend as well but more of Chanyeol’s. He’s the vocalist, along with his girlfriend Taeyeon, who also plays the keyboards. And last, there’s Kyungsoo, who plays the drums.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They enter the club as Junmyeon talks. The walls are a deep cerulean blue and the carpet on the floor matches. But the upholstery is done in white and grey and Yifan decides he quite likes it. On the raised platform in the middle of the floor, two women and three men set up their instruments. Junmyeon grabs Yifan’s elbows and steers him through the crowd and towards the bar. Yifan glances about and asks, “Just a small performance, hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon laughs, “These are all people from my college. Electric Kiss is pretty popular on campus! Even other colleges know them!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan catches the eye of the bartender and orders them two neat whiskeys. Junmyeon smiles to himself. He cannot believe Yifan remembered. A few nights ago, when Mr and Mrs Kim had gone away for two nights, the Kim siblings roped in Yifan to drink the night away with them. While Minseok and Joohyun liked their wine, Junmyeon and Yifan chose whiskey and laughed how they both liked it without any soda or water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Yifan returns to Junmyeon, he sees a girl throw her arm around his waist and grin up at him. A sudden flare of jealousy rises in Yifan’s chest before he remembers how futile that is. He swallows the discomfort bubbling in his guts and joins them. Junmyeon turns his head to the side and smiles, “Ah, Yifan, this is Seulgi, Kyungsoo's girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan finds it easier to breathe as he smiles, “The drummer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl, Seulgi nods, “Yes!” She reaches for his hand and beams, “And you’re Yifan! The artist!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon blushes when Yifan turns his gaze on him. Seulgi promises to return as she runs off to greet some other friends. Yifan takes a small sip of his drink and asks, “Have you been talking a lot about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon hides his face as he bows to take a sip of his drink, “Well, they were just asking what a portrait artist does, so I just told them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan laughs and Junmyeon braves a peek. Every time Junmyeon makes Yifan laugh, it makes Junmyeon feel strange—his stomach twists and his heart starts thudding against his ribs, begging to be released like a bird in a cage. Yifan looks at him, maybe wanting to say something but their conversation is halted when Chanyeol takes the stage and shouts into the mic, “And now, Electric Kiss!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd loudly cheers and Junmyeon joins in. Seulgi joins them as well. Junmyeon had informed him beforehand that the band mostly covered Beatles, Jimi Hendrix and so on. The first song is a cover of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please Mr Postman </span>
  </em>
  <span>that a woman covers. Yifan surmises it must be the other member of the team, Taeyeon. She has a stunning, full voice; Yifan is mesmerised. She can easily give any established singer a run for their money. Seulgi leans in and whispers, “Isn’t Taeyeon unnie </span>
  <em>
    <span>simply </span>
  </em>
  <span>wonderful?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon nods and even Yifan finds himself nodding. When Taeyeon’s song ends, the crowd erupts in applause. Then, to Yifan’s surprise, Chanyeol takes the mic. Yifan asks, “He sings too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seulgi answers, “They all sing actually!” A light blush covers her face when she adds, “Sometimes, I stand in for Taeyeon unnie too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon laughs, “They are all very talented!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seulgi pokes her elbow in Junmyeon’s side and smiles, “You too, we asked and asked! You never wanted to even help us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan is confused; Junmyeon can sing? How come he does not know about this? He observes Junmyeon carefully as he looks to his side and scratches his nape. A bashful but tight smile covers his face as he says, “Ah, you know I don’t have the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seulgi pouts but says nothing else. Chanyeol begins singing </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blowin’ in the Wind</span>
  </em>
  <span> and many people join in, some even whoop cheerfully. Yifan knows this song has become a strong anti-war anthem and he is, after all, surrounded by college students, the new generation who is not here for meaningless bloodshed. Chanyeol has a nice, husky voice. One would not expect such a deep baritone to sing so melodiously, with so much emotion but Yifan enjoys it, likes how effortless Chanyeol’s voice is. It does not hurt that the tall boy is also easy on the eyes with his bright, wide eyes and deep dimples. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the song ends, Chanyeol talks to the crowd and Yifan notices Taeyeon and Chaeyoung adjusting the mic for Kyungsoo. Even the drummer sings? His question is answered when Chanyeol shouts, “Now, everyone’s favourite, Do Kyungsoo!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seulgi shouts the loudest this time. Kyungsoo chooses a Beatles song. Yifan recognises it as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Love Me Do</span>
  </em>
  <span>, one of his favourites actually. Yifan joins in this time, swaying slightly with the music. Kyungsoo, as expected, also has an amazing voice. Junmyeon notices Yifan having fun and he links his elbow with Yifan’s, who grins down at him. They both sway and mouth along with the words. As the song ends, Yifan finds his gaze returning to Junmyeon, who tilts his head up at the same time. Junmyeon widens his eyes slightly because he did not realise how close they had gotten during the song. Even in the subdued blue light, Junmyeon can see the freckles on Yifan’s son and he can see the way Yifan’s pupils dilate and his gaze flits towards his mouth for the briefest of moments. Junmyeon’s lips part and he watches with bated breath as Yifan looks back down at his lips again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is happening?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan is thinking the same when he notices Junmyeon staring at his lips as well. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Junmyeon is not like him...right? His brain whirs as he realises how all of Junmyeon’s friends have partners but Junmyeon does not. But that is not an indication alone. Still, Yifan can </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>it: that unnamed emotion in Junmyeon’s eyes. The one emotion Yifan remembers from a long time ago. It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>want. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yifan feels his heart skip a beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kyungsoo ends the song and introduces Chaeyoung, Junmyeon has turned his head away, focusing on the stage. He shifts a little but Yifan needs to know—he needs to know he is not imagining this. As Chaeyoung begins her cover of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterday</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Yifan musters his courage and curls his fingers around Junmyeon’s wrist. Junmyeon was standing on his right, so Yifan’s thumb rests atop Junmyeon’s pulse, which is positively racing. He hears a sharp intake of breath and when Yifan glances at Junmyeon from the corner of his eyes, he notes the blush covering his face and the teeth clamped on his lower teeth. Yifan smiles to himself. He is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>imagining this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan pushes himself to take another step and laces his fingers through Junmyeon’s. And when Junmyeon allows it, even squeezes Yifan’s fingers, there is conviction. Finally, the band plays their last song and it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>California Dreamin</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Yifan does not let go of Junmyeon and neither does Junmyeon. In the half-darkness and surrounded by people whose attention is elsewhere, they are safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the song ends and the brighter lights are turned on. Junmyeon, finally, looks at Yifan and smiles and Yifan unlaces his fingers. Junmyeon blushes deeply and smiles, bowing his head. Yifan knows this chapter has just begun, he can wait for the conclusion. He steps away from Junmyeon a little and soon, the band joins them. They crowd into a booth and another round of introductions follow. Yifan notes how all of Junmyeon’s friends are attractive. Do beautiful people find other beautiful people? But in the purple light in their corner is the prettiest on Junmyeon. When their gazes locked across the table, Junmyeon smiles again, his cheeks reddening as he looks down on his lap. Yifan’s heart jumps and he cannot fight the smile blooming across his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And patience becomes a virtue. When they reach home and Junmyeon parks the car in the garage, Yifan bites the bullet and grabs his wrist again before they can get out of the car. Junmyeon inhales deeply and murmurs, “Yifan…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan does not know what Junmyeon is asking for, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pleading </span>
  </em>
  <span>for but there is something in his eyes, begging Yifan to close the gap between them and learn how his lips feel. So, Yifan does exactly that. He inches closer and closer, still glancing at Junmyeon every now and then but he does not see the other retreating—instead, a small smile tugs at his lips and Yifan realises Junmyeon is holding his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their lips finally meet and it is chaste, gentle, quite unlike the fire raging in Yifan’s veins. Junmyeon’s lips are soft, pliant. Yifan pulls back, still trying to gauge the situation and the man before him. To Yifan’s surprise, it is Junmyeon who winds his fingers in Yifan’s hair and pulls him down, capturing his lips in a blistering, passionate kiss. Their lips slide against each other and their noses bump but Yifan remembers to tilt his head and trap Junmyeon’s lower lip between his. He sucks on it, rolling it, tasting the whiskey and the smoke of the night. Junmyeon whimpers slightly and parts his lips, eager to let Yifan in and who is he to deny it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air gets hotter, more humid. It is already such a hot summer night but the heat between them is unbearable and when breathing becomes a constraint, they break the kiss. A single strand of saliva connects their swollen lips and they breathe into each other. Yifan smiles a little, at the glazed eyes and the sweat beading on Junmyeon’s temple (he is sure he looks the same). He kisses the mole atop Junmyeon’s lips and mumbles, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon chuckles a little and kisses the corner of Yifan’s lips, “Me too.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. ii. 2010</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Yifan sits down and puts his coffee down on the table. The rattan chair squeaks a little under his weight as he gets comfortable in it. A bird chirps over his head and he turns his head up but he fails to see anything in the foliage of the frangipani tree. He curses himself because he obviously forgot his reading glasses. He calls out, “Yukhei! Can you fetch my glasses?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears his son laughing and then he hears son-in-law rapidly firing off in Thai, probably scolding him. Yifan smirks; Yukhei and Ten meeting each other truly was a blessing. The latter has changed his son for the better. It is Ten who comes out from the backdoor and hands Yifan his glasses and a plate of toast. He says, “I got some of that bread you like yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan smiles widely as he drags the plate towards himself. It is that sugarloaf from the local bakery Yifan really likes. Ten has slathered margarine on it for him as well. Yifan says, “Thank you.” He looks around and asks, “Is Bright sleeping?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten shakes his head, sighing, “He is blissfully asleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan feels bad for his son-in-law for a moment. Bright, all of nine months of age, is not a quiet sleeper and keeps his parents awake and his grandfather too. Even Yifan was roped in last night to rock the baby to sleep. And Yifan could not say no, not when the signs of sleeplessness and exhaustion were clear on Ten and Yukhei’s faces. Also, being a grandfather for the first time is also quite the experience. Sometimes, Yifan remembers he might not get to see Bright grow up, so he wants to cherish whatever he gets. All the spittle, snot and late-night wails. Yifan smiles, “Let him sleep for some time, then. You two eat something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the plan, baba,” Yukhei joins them, two trays in hand. Ten helps him and Yifan spots rice porridge, soft-boiled eggs, coffee and toasted sugar bread. “We will eat and then if possible, we’ll try to catch some shuteye before his late morning feed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He only woke up once at five,” Ten adds, taking a toast and spreading margarine on it. “I fed him then. Let’s hope he sleeps, at least, till ten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is a good thing that all of them live and work in the same place. The Sun and Moon Gallery and Cafe was Yukhei and Ten’s brainchild. Yifan was not sure how well it could work, not when he has not really shown a full collection since the 90s. However, the name Kris Wu still holds some weight and soon, the gallery started to attract attention. Ten, who worked as an assistant chef in a popular hotel, suggested the cafe, where the dishes would be named after Yifan’s famous works. Now, it has become Bangkok’s chicest place to be. Yifan does not entirely understand the Internet but Yukhei convinces them they are a success on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yukhei yawns and Yifan feels his heart twist in worry again. While no one will deny that Bright has been a blessing, especially when Yukhei and Ten had to struggle so hard to find the right surrogate, Yifan finds himself hoping the child learns to calm down one day. It is driving both his parents to the ground. Ten rubs Yukhei’s forearm and says, “You take a nap first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I will,” Yukhei agrees and rubs the corner of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan sips his coffee and smiles, “Yukhei was the same too, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten brightens and he grins, “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan nods, “A total terror! He would like to be fed at 3 in the morning when he was six months old. Jiejie had to set an alarm!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yukhei pouts, jutting his lower lip out, “Oh come on. I was very, very cute! I’m sure that forgave everything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten laughs, so does Yifan. Ten says, “You were such a big baby, my goodness! I wasn’t surprised when Bright came out weighing four kilograms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan shakes his head, a smile still on his face. Bright will take after his father, grow as tall as him, maybe even taller. It is always funny to Yifan when everyone naturally assumes he is Yukhei’s biological father. He was always grateful to the couple who let him stay with them in Paris years and years ago. Their wedding should have been beautiful but then Min Hao died in an accident, leaving behind a pregnant Rampha, Yifan could not find it in himself to leave her alone. He stayed with Rampha till Yukhei was a year old. Then when she died, Yifan adopted Yukhei and took him along when he finally moved back to Taiwan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The move to Thailand happened six years ago when Yukhei and Ten met at an exhibition. Yifan felt it was only right—Yukhei was half Thai after all and Yifan thought it must have been some divine intervention when his son fell for Ten, who is Thai. Yukhei, and Ten also, did not want to leave Yifan alone on his own in Taipei. And Yifan was not too eager to stay on his own either (he was actually planning to go stay with an old friend in Paris after Yukhei’s departure). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Ten asks, “Ah, Xuxi, what’s today’s date?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yukhei unlocks his phone and answers, “May twenty-second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan was picking his cup up to his lips to take another sip but Yukhei saying the date out loud makes him stop midway. He blinks at his family as he finds himself rushing forty-five years back to a summer when he thought love was possible and real, pure and honest. He puts the cup back down and his hand trembles a little. Even now, after so many years, the very thought of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>makes Yifan feel weak. If he closed his eyes right now, he could see the smile, the mole atop his lips, the crinkling around his eyes, the blush that would suffuse his soft, downy cheeks. Damn, if Yifan truly concentrates, he can even hear the mellifluous singing voice, the deep laughter, the whispered sweet nothings, the heated exchanges of breath…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan squeezes his eyes shut and inhales deeply. Ten notices Yifan’s breathing differently than before and quietly asks, “Baba, you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan waves his hand, “Yes, yes I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten’s smiles and his voice sounds guilty when he says, “I feel bad for bothering you last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan reassures Ten again, “Absolutely not. You know I don’t sleep much in the night anyway. I prefer my afternoon naps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The morning passes and Ten heads to the cafe as Yukhei takes his nap. The gallery does not open on Saturdays but the cafe remains open to the public. Their house is a mere stone’s throw from it all, so the morning rush is avoided and Yifan is lucky to share his mornings with his family every day before they get all busy.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan usually spends the time between breakfast and lunch either working on illustrations or going through portfolios of other aspiring artists (the gallery, even though hosts prominent and successful artists from all over Asia, it also holds special shows for newcomers). Today, however, he ambles towards the closed gallery and his feet take him to the painting that got him his fame in Europe and then, subsequently, in Asia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The original remains as a permanent fixture in a French private collection but a print of it takes the special place in this gallery. The gallery is named after the painting, actually. It is a large one, easily among Yifan’s largest oil canvases. It depicts the sun and the moon in a genderless form, wrapped around each other, locked onto one another in an eternal kiss. Yifan smiles when he looks at it. He created it four years after he left Korea—South Korea now, he reminds himself—when he found himself breaking apart at the thought of everything he had left behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep ochre and vivid red blends into dark purples and stormy blues. The critics said it was an amazing contrast between warm and cold colours, between light and darkness. Yifan wanted to portray that, how much light the only love of his life gave him. Every smile was like sunshine, every touch was warm, welcoming, every look was filled with a gentleness Yifan could never fathom. Yifan felt like he was pushed into a dark abyss when he realised he could not go back, could not seek out the one thing he wanted the most in the whole world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches forward and touches the painting. It is obviously smooth under his fingerprints but he remembers the days and nights he finished this with tears in his eyes and oil paint under his fingertips. He reads the note beside the painting, where his quote has been printed:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I dedicated this to someone who means—meant—a lot to me. Maybe, one day, I’ll see them again and I’ll get to show them this painting.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan smiles and he feels his chest hurt with the heartache. He changed his name, after all, choosing to pick a much easier-on-the-tongue option because he was done with people butchering his real name. People have forgotten that name, the one his mother gave him. His smile wanes—he did want to go back to Seoul one day but then he remembered the marriage and Yifan realised that he should not show up for his own selfish reasons and wreck anyone else’s life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan sighs; he turns his back to the painting and walks back to the house. There is no use dwelling in the past. He cannot go back...no matter how much he wants to some times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bright wakes up, as Ten predicted, right at ten o’clock. Yukhei was still napping on the couch, so Yifan heads to the nursery, choosing to not disturb Yukhei’s rest. He is quietly gurgling in his cot and when he spots his grandfather, he breaks out into a wide, toothless grin. Yifan’s heart softens and he cannot help but melt at the sight. He scoops Bright up and the infant makes grabby hands towards his face. Yifan holds him close and Bright pushes his head towards Yifan’s forehead. Bright likes to do this with his parents and grandfather. Yukhei thinks Bright might have been a cat in a past life, rubbing his head on the people he understands as his caregivers to establish ownership. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan rubs his back as he strolls into the kitchen. He knows Ten has prepared lunch for Bright already: soft rice with mashed eggs. Yifan only needs to heat it up. As he puts Bright in the baby chair, Yukhei wakes up. Bright shrieks in joy at seeing his father and Yukhei smiles at him. He looks at his father and says, “Ah, baba, you should have woken me up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t have the heart to wake you up,” Yifan answers as he pops the microwave-safe containers of baby food in the microwave. He squints a little as he sets the timer to a minute. Where did he leave his reading glasses again? He hears Bright laughing and he turns around to find Yukhei making faces at Bright. Yukhei still wears his eye bags but the joy on his face, the love he has for his son is so apparent. And Bright, his chubby cheeks lift and little fat wrists wave in the air, overjoyed at his father’s silly antics. Yifan smiles and that same warm sensation fills his entire being. His life is so beautiful and yet, there is this hollow space he cannot fill, cannot ignore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few days later, something strange happens. Yukhei is in the gallery office, going through some emails when he finds a subject line that has him frowning. It reads: Information on Wu Yifan. Yukhei recognises his father’s given name—no one uses it anymore, not even Yifan himself. Everyone in the industry and beyond knows him as Kris Wu. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xuxi, if you keep frowning like that, you’ll get wrinkles,” someone says and Yukhei raises his head to find Ten standing at the door, Bright perched on his hip. Yukhei’s face instantly clears and he forgets about the email for a second, especially when Bright gurgles happily to see him. Ten walks around the desk and plops Bright on Yukhei’s lap. He cards his fingers through Yukhei’s hair and asks, “Everything okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yukhei nuzzles into his son’s soft, melon-scented hair, taking a deep, deep sniff. He mumbles, “Just a strange email.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten asks, “Oh, can I see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Yukhei pushes his chair back and lets Ten lean over the desktop. Yukhei watches as Ten, too, frowns at the subject line. He opens the mail and the body is in English too, so he reads it aloud, “Dear Mr Wu, I am Kim Sehun from South Korea and I am looking for a man named Wu Yifan. Before that, please let me provide you with some context. In 1965, my grandfather commissioned Wu Yifan for family portraits. My father, Kim Junmyeon, after many years, is trying to find Mr Wu, who I believe could be someone you are familiar with. If you know where he is, or how I can find him, please let me know. I look forward to hearing from you. Kind regards, Kim Sehun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten straightens and checks the date. The email came four days ago. Yukhei whispers, “That’s a weird email, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten hums, “That goes without saying. If baba did do some work for them, why do they need to know about baba now? Makes no sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yukhei reels his chair closer and says, “But I’m now curious. Maybe, we could reply. See where this goes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten shrugs, “Can’t hurt, I guess. They are all the way in South Korea anyway.” Therefore, Ten quickly types a reply: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dear Mr Kim,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though the nature of your request is peculiar, I see no harm in letting you know that the Wu Yifan you’re looking for is, indeed, my father. I suppose you have discovered that Kris Wu is actually Wu Yifan and needed clarification. However, we’d like to know why you are looking for him in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking forward to your reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kind regards, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucas Yukhei Wu  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” Ten says. He turns to look at Yukhei and smiles, “Should we tell this to baba?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yukhei pouts, “I guess we could. But if he did this portrait thing in the sixties, they aren’t coming to sue him or anything, are they? Like, hey, my grandfather absolutely didn’t have this double chin you gave him in the portrait!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten laughs,” I think that’s unlikely! But let’s tell baba anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, when Yukhei and Ten tell Yifan about the email, they are both surprised to see the way Yifan’s eyes mist over and his lips part in an inaudible gasp. He stands up all of a sudden and shuffles towards his studio. Ten and Yukhei share a confused look before they follow Yifan. They find the older man kneeling over a trunk, shuffling through it with trembling, anxious fingers. Yukhei walks in and puts a hand on Yifan’s shoulder, gently murmuring, “Baba?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan finds what he was looking for and pulls out an old, faded maroon moleskin sketchbook. He flips through it and stops at a drawing. Yukhei realises it is a draft, something Yifan used to make before doing portraits on canvas. Yukhei looks down at the man in the drawing and he raises his eyebrows. The subject is </span>
  <em>
    <span>stunning</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But then, Yukhei frowns. His baba’s emotions are always clear in what he paints and when he sees the careful lines, the attention to detail—even to the faintest moles on the subject’s face, Yukhei starts suspecting. He asks, “Who is this baba?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan’s voice shakes, “Ki-kim Junmye-junmyeon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten joins them and says, “The sender’s father? You knew him, baba?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan claps his hand over his mouth as he nods. Yukhei and Ten share another look. They are totally flabbergasted at Yifan’s reactions. He is vexed, shook to his core. Ten cannot imagine why but when he glances at the knowing glint in Yukhei’s eyes, he frowns. Yukhei takes the moleskin sketchbook and as he flips through it, Ten widens his eyes when he sees more sketches of the man. He adds two and two. He quietly asks, “Was he someone, um, special to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yukhei begins speaking and his voice is unusually gentle, “Baba, you know, I always wondered why my mother never married you or why you never married anyone yourself. When you stood up for me in my teens, when I was just starting to understand myself, you told me you would love me no matter what.” He throws an arm around Yifan’s shoulders and smiles, “You, you have always liked men, haven’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten gasps but he steps back a little, understanding this is a moment he should not tread on. But he also wants to know, confirm his own suspicions, so he does not leave the room. Yukhei continues, “Was Kim Junmyeon your lover, baba?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan sighs, nodding his head again. The whole year of 1965 was a dream for him but it would end in a nightmare.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. ii. 1965</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know I said daily updates but I hated how this was going, so I rewrote a lot of this chapter. So sorry to keep you waiting!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The house has fallen asleep, completely hushed. Junmyeon grabs his torch and takes the stairs to the ground floor. The best thing about choosing a room above the kitchen is the backstairs he can use to go up and down. It also has now become the best conduit to visit Yifan without alerting anyone. </p><p>Junmyeon, however, takes a detour in the kitchen where he prepares two cups of coffee. He knows Yifan is up and working like he usually does. Junmyeon often joins him but since the moment after the music club, inside the car, the night has become their cover. No one knows yet—and Junmyeon prays no one ever does—but Junmyeon has been sleeping in Yifan’s room for the last two weeks. He slips away right before dawn breaks. </p><p>He does not bother knocking on Yifan’s door and enters the room. As expected, Yifan is by the easel, standing with his hand on his hip and with a massive scowl on his face. Junmyeon has learned over the last fourteen days that Yifan has a perfectionist side to him that often makes him insecure about his work. Junmyeon may not be an expert but he cannot find any flaws in Yifan’s work, ever. </p><p>
  <em> Jongho always insists on having dinner together, and since his words are the law in this house, everyone follows. Jongho also uses this dinner time to talk to Yifan and get an update on his progress. Tonight, Yifan let him know that the big family portrait is nearly done and Jongho gave him half a smile and let Yifan know he wants to see the finished product. Yifan smiles, “Yes, of course, sir.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Eunyon chirps, “I already have a frame in mind!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yifan says, “That’s wonderful. But you must let the canvas dry for another two weeks or else I can’t varnish it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Joohyun pouts, “Why does oil paint take so long to dry?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Minseok answers, “For a canvas to completely dry, it can take almost a century, right?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yifan chuckles, “That was when artists mixed their own pigments. Now, it can dry anywhere between two months to two years.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Eunyon hums, “I suppose you will have to make us a note of things we shouldn’t and should do.” She winks, “I’ve seen how amazing the portrait is going to be, I would hate it if I accidentally ruined it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yifan blushes but nods, “Of course, madam.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon watches the whole exchange and then a sad thought forms in his head. He sees how well his family is getting along with Yifan. If the world was a different place, they would not protest against their blossoming relationship, would they? Junmyeon cups his face and frowns at the remaining rice in his bowl. Suddenly, he feels someone watching him, so he looks up and finds Yifan looking at him, a small smile tugging at a corner of his lips. Junmyeon feels flushed under his collar and quickly looks away, trying very hard to not smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Minseok says, “Ah, Junmyeon, what are you doing for your birthday tomorrow?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Nothing much,” Junmyeon laughs. “Chanyeol and Baekhyun want a treat, so I’m taking them out for lunch after class tomorrow.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Joohyun claps her hand, “And then we have a birthday dinner here!” When she sees Junmyeon scrunching his face, she quickly adds, “It’ll just be us! Don’t worry!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Eunyon finds Yifan glancing between the siblings with some confusion, so she explains, “Junmyeon isn’t a fan of big parties.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Minseok hums, “The last time we threw a party for him, he was ten and he hated the attention so much, he began crying!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon cries, “Hyung!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Joohyun adds, her eyes gleaming mischievously, “I think, I have pictures of that day somewhere.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon glares at his sister and everyone starts chuckling. Yifan even notices a small smile on Jongho’s face. If anything Yifan has conjectured of this man, he might be strict and aloof but he still cared for his children. Yifan finds his gaze flitting to Junmyeon who is threatening Joohyun about her embarrassing childhood pictures. The Kim family is endearing in their own way. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Later that night, an hour before midnight, Junmyeon steals his way into Yifan’s room, where, as expected, Yifan is awake and painting. He is nearly done with the family portrait and has begun work on Jongho’s portrait. Junmyeon watches Yifan paint for some time, smiling at how attractive the concentration is on Yifan’s face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yifan rolls his neck and frowns a little. Junmyeon braves getting closer and lightly places his hands on Yifan’s shoulders. Yifan flinches a little but his grin is wide and welcoming when he realises it is only Junmyeon. He says, “Hello.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon gently starts kneading the tense muscles on Yifan’s shoulders and necks. Junmyeon smiles when he sees Yifan melting under his touch. Yifan murmurs, “This is nice, please don’t stop.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon feels good that Yifan was feeling good at his administrations. When he pushes his knuckles into a certain place in Yifan’s nape, the older moans and the sound—obviously innocent—makes Junmyeon feel hot all over. He licks his lips and tries to reign his mind, which is going wildly. He is a virgin and the most he did with Yifan was heavily makeout. Then, later, when he would be lying in his bed, he would think about the large hands touching him everywhere and… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon shakes his head again and focuses back on loosening the knots in Yifan’s shoulders. He whispers, “You’re going to have such bad posture the older you get.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yifan chuckles, “I’ve made my peace with that.” He puts a hand on Junmyeon’s hand and tilts his head back. Junmyeon cannot help himself when he leans closer and kisses Yifan’s nose. Yifan scrunches his nose and it makes Junmyeon grin. It had been so easy, surprisingly, to fall into this. Junmyeon was worried things would become strange between them, or Yifan would see him any differently. But they still have their friendship and Junmyeon learned that Yifan always looked at him differently. “It was your eyes,” Yifan had said, a warm hand on Junmyeon’s flushed cheek. “When I saw them, I was so taken. I have spent so many hours trying to perfect the way you look at the world. You’re so beautiful and lovely.” Junmyeon had no answer to that. He had simply pressed his face into Yifan’s neck and tried to will away the heat from his face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yifan swivels around and pulls Junmyeon in his embrace. He swiftly kisses the side of Junmyeon’s neck, which is sensitive (this was new information to Junmyeon) and murmurs, “I’ve your birthday gift for you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon blinks, cocking his head to the side. “Oh?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yifan nods and lets Junmyeon go as he stands up. Junmyeon misses the arms around his waist but he is eager to receive his gift. Yifan removes something from under his bed and between two layers of newspaper, Yifan pulls out an A4 sheet. He presents it to Junmyeon with a massive gummy smile, “Happy birthday!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon giggles as he takes the paper, “My birthday is still half an hour away!” He looks down at the watercolour of him in the garden. He widens his eyes as he touches the flowers and the grass and lastly his own face. “It’s lovely!” He throws his arms around Yifan. “I love it, thank you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yifan cups the back of Junmyeon’s head and they share a kiss, a sweet, gentle one. He murmurs against Junmyeon’s lips, “Could’ve been better.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon presses his lips and shakes his head. He kisses the underside of Yifan’s jaw and then his chin before stopping at the corner of Yifan’s lips. “It’s lovely and I’m not listening to you. I’ll treasure this so much, you have no idea. You don’t even know how people look at all that you make. I see talent, dedication, beauty. So,” he kisses Yifan’s lips, “Shut up.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yifan turns red, even the tips of his ears are red. He looks to the side and bites on his lips. Junmyeon chuckles a little and curls his fingers under Yifan’s chin, urging him to a kiss, less sweet than the one before. When they pull back and Junmyeon gazes into Yifan’s eyes, so clear and full of fondness for him, Junmyeon feels his heart skip more than one beat. He is standing at such a dangerous edge, if he falls, he will only keep falling. </em>
</p><p>Yifan paints, succumbed to his art. He is on Kim Jongho’s portrait now. Currently, he is trying his best to deepen the lines around the man’s face. Junmyeon puts the tray on the teapoy next to the artist and he watches as Yifan sniffs the air, obviously alerted by the scent of coffee. He turns his head around and smiles when he finds Junmyeon standing near him. He eyes the coffee and extends a hand for the cup. Junmyeon meets him halfway but Yifan reaches for something else and Junmyeon looks on with confusion but he extends his own hand. Yifan takes it and kisses Junmyeon’s knuckles, mumbling, “Thank you, I needed it.”</p><p>Junmyeon feels the warmth spread from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair. Yifan likes kissing and touching a <em> whole lot, </em>this much Junmyeon has realised in the last few days. It made Junmyeon’s stomach do some intense callisthenics every time. Junmyeon picks up his own cup and stands behind Yifan again. He looks at the painting and says, “How does one do it? I’ve no artistic skills, so it amazes me every time I see you working.”</p><p>Yifan blows the steam rising from the cup and takes a small sip. He says, “I couldn’t tell you, even if I tried.”</p><p>Junmyeon puts his chin atop Yifan’s head and hums, “It’s amazing.”</p><p>Yifan blushes, “Thank you.”</p><p>Junmyeon lets Yifan finish his work in peace as he strolls towards the window and perches atop the windowsill. Fireflies flit about the garden and an owl hoots. Junmyeon likes the garden a lot but it becomes even more magical at nighttime. The air is heavy with the scent of jasmines and the gentle wind that blows makes the white shrubs sway. Junmyeon wonders if he has finally learned to see the beauty in the mundane thanks to Yifan. He looks back at the man who occupies the most space in his mind and he smiles. </p><p>Yifan is the picture of concentration, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together, his right hand in a never-ceasing flurry as it dances across the canvas. With his other hand, he sips from his cup from time to time. Junmyeon had thought it would be strange to share these moments of silence with him. But he finds it to be actually quite pleasant. Junmyeon likes how they do not need incessant babble or restless actions to fill their time together. Junmyeon simply enjoys being around Yifan, just his presence is enough. He usually brings a book along, which he keeps in the pockets of his robe. He forgot one today but it does not matter. He turns to look at the night sky again and starts humming under his breath. He finishes his coffee and swings his legs over the sill and the long grass growing under the window tickles his bare feet. He begins singing a bit louder. </p><p>“Put your head on my shoulder,” Junmyeon sings, quietly so it does not disturb the artist at work. “Whisper in my ear, baby…”</p><p>Suddenly, there are arms around Junmyeon’s shoulders and lips on his ear lobe, murmuring, “You have such a lovely voice.” The lips trail down the side of Junmyeon’s head.</p><p>Junmyeon tilts his head back and smiles, “I didn’t disturb you, did I?”</p><p>Yifan shakes his head, “No. I needed a break. What song was that?”</p><p>“Joohyun got it from her friend, Seungwan, who went to Canada last summer and got the record there. It is some artist called Paul Anka, the record is rather nice. I’ll play it for you someday.”</p><p>“Hmm, I think I like you singing it more already.”</p><p>Junmyeon rolls his eyes and his head lolls back, allowing Yifan more access to his neck. When Yifan’s lips skim across his jaw, Junmyeon nudges till Yifan gets it and kisses him. Junmyeon parts his lips, licking into Yifan’s mouth, who reciprocates. Kissing Yifan is so addictive—Junmyeon has never felt quite so lightheaded from a kiss or even been kissed like this. Yifan’s desire for him is so evident, it nearly has Junmyeon’s heart stopping and his body <em> aching </em>for more. He holds onto Yifan’s arm as the latter curls his fingers into Junmyeon’s nape, tugging on the short hairs there. With his other hand, he brushes his long, tapered finger along Junmyeon’s jaw, as if memorising the angle of it. The lightest redolence of turpentine lingers between them and when they break for air, Yifan hoods his eyes and whispers, “Do you know how crazy you drive me?”</p><p>Junmyeon is still trying to catch his breath but he smiles, licking his lips, “You’re the one driving <em> me </em>crazy.”</p><p>Yifan tugs at Junmyeon’s waist and Junmyeon understands. He turns around and wraps his limbs around Yifan, who leans down to kiss him again. Insistent and wild, Junmyeon drowns in the kiss, dragging Yifan with him. Junmyeon slips down the sill and they are a confusion of limbs and steps until Yifan pushes him against the closest wall. Junmyeon feels the heat, quick and volcanic, flaring in his blood when Yifan pins his hands over his head.</p><p>Yifan breaks the kiss for air and he regards Junmyeon for some time and the other wonders why. Then, biting his lip, he softly says, "You're my art." Junmyeon widens his eyes and his breath catches. How does Yifan do that? Make him <em> yearn </em> with just words? </p><p>On his knees, Junmyeon watches Yifan fall. They have touched each other in ways that would make anyone else blush but it was mostly Junmyeon satisfying his curiosity. Yifan has never...done this. </p><p>Yifan's fingers brush against the waistband of Junmyeon's pyjamas. He says, "May I?" It is a request but Junmyeon knows it is a demand and it makes him tremble. Junmyeon manages a slow shake, swallowing as he bites down on his lip. </p><p>Yifan pulls down the pyjamas and Junmyeon feels a bit conscious to be bared like that but when Yifan wraps his fingers around his cock, Junmyeon forgets about it. He gasps and covers his mouth, ashamed how just a touch is enough to get him this winded. Junmyeon loves how Yifan has him figured out, how he likes to be touched. But perhaps, he has other ideas tonight. Junmyeon watches with bated breath when Yifan sinks his face between his thighs, licking and sucking, his tongue stroking until Junmyeon drowns in the sensations. </p><p>Junmyeon bites down on his fingers, trying to hold back the moans spilling from his lips. Yifan does not cease, his head bobbing and his throat humming around Junmyeon's length. Yifan curls his hand around the base of Junmyeon's cock and removes his mouth, only to ask, "Are you okay?"</p><p>Junmyeon heaves, "Yes. Please. Please don't stop."</p><p>Yifan smirks and does not say anything but the look in his eyes makes Junmyeon lose his breath. How does Yifan do it, seriously? Here Junmyeon is, legs quaking and chest heaving as he drips precum all over Yifan's hand. Yifan cups the tip and squeezes. Breathless—Junmyeon cannot remember how it is to breathe. He wants to beg for more but he does not have the words. </p><p>Yifan understands the silent plea and he slowly gets to his feet. His hand moves to an unknown orchestra, playing Junmyeon like a string instrument as he sinks his teeth into Junmyeon's neck. He moves his lips to Junmyeon's earlobes and his hand moves in a frenzy. Tighter, everything feels overwhelming. Junmyeon clutches onto Yifan's shoulders, begging for release. So, he does, unravelling completely with Yifan's name on his tongue.</p><p>When Junmyeon comes down, he finds himself on the bed with Yifan lips kissing the mark on his neck and his hands are around his waist. Placed on Yifan’s lap, Junmyeon can feel his hardness poking into him. He turns around and even in the haze of his release, he wants to return the favour. So, he slides down on the floor, kneeling between Yifan's legs, who murmurs, "You don't have to."</p><p>Junmyeon smiles as he undoes the strings on Yifan's pyjamas, "I want to. I want you to feel good too."</p><p>Yifan bites his lip but does not say anything more when Junmyeon frees his cock from the confines of cloth and strokes it firm and hard from root to tip. Yifan tangles his hand in Junmyeon's hair and moans. Chills tiptoe down Junmyeon's spine. His lips part and his tongue makes circles around the tip. Oh, how hard Yifan is. Junmyeon replaces his tongue with his hand, circles turn into strokes and he puts his mouth back on Yifan's cock again, taking him in, inch by inch and Yifan throbs around the corner of Junmyeon's lips.</p><p>Junmyeon has done it before, so he knows what Yifan likes. When Yifan throws his head back and moans, Junmyeon knows what to do next. He gently scratches Yifan's thigh, signalling him to let go. And Yifan heeds, takes the green light. His grip tightens in Junmyeon's hair and his body jerks, pushing deeper into Junmyeon's slick mouth. </p><p>Yifan's pleasure is to watch Junmyeon choke when he thrusts in deep. Junmyeon’s pleasure is to swallow him whole. He has discovered he does not have much of a gag reflex, so he enjoys the way Yifan is so long and thick enough to touch the very back of his throat. </p><p>Yifan does not stop, even when Junmyeon loses his breath. He pushes in harder, deeper and Junmyeon wonders how it would be like to be taken by his waist and pushed in deeper like this elsewhere. His heart pounds and he feels blood rushing to his loins again. Meanwhile, Yifan vibrates inside his mouth and Junmyeon moves faster, his head moving up and down until Yifan releases into his mouth, dripping down Junmyeon's chin.</p><p>Yifan pulls Junmyeon up in his lap again and kisses him. Junmyeon pulls back and he cups Yifan's neck, staring deep into his eyes as he mumbles, "Can we, can we go further tonight?"</p><p>Yifan's eyes widen. He had been wishing to go all the way with Junmyeon but he wanted the younger to set the pace for their physical intimacy. He spreads his hands on the small of Junmyeon's back and asks, "Are you sure?"</p><p>Junmyeon nods and to show how much he is resolved tonight to go all the way, he moves off Yifan and goes to sit down on the bed, his hands hovering over his nightshirt. Yifan smiles, even though he tries to play it cool, his heart thunders. He wants Junmyeon, <em> wants </em>him a little too much than considered normal, perhaps. He inches closer and kisses Junmyeon, who slips his fingers under Yifan’s tank top. </p><p>Junmyeon’s hands roam over Yifan’s skin, mapping out the way his muscles twitch and his skin becomes hotter and hotter. Yifan slides his hand between Junmyeon’s thighs, his fingers dig into the soft, sensitive flesh on Junmyeon’s inner thigh. Junmyeon understands it as a nonverbal request to open up, so he spreads his legs, allowing Yifan to nestle right between. Yifan cups Junmyeon’s body, his hand resting at the lowest depth of Junmyeon’s back. He pushes his palm to sculpt the divot in Junmyeon’s back, arching him upwards till his cock brushes against Yifan’s. It is startling but Junmyeon likes it, moaning around Yifan’s lips, gasping for air. Then, Yifan’s hands cup his buttcheeks, pushing his body further, up and down. Junmyeon feels warmer and warmer, his legs shake, his very core pulses. </p><p>Yifan licks into Junmyeon’s mouth and Junmyeon shudders with submission. Yifan is the master of his fingertips. It is effortless how Yifan’s plays with his body in unthinkable ways—Yifan gets him to spread, to arch. But he is <em> craving </em>for more. So, he wheezes, “Yifan, Yifan, please…”</p><p>Yifan wants to kiss and lick and mark every inch of Junmyeon’s skin but he supposes that can wait. He dives to the side, pulling a small trunk from underneath the bed. He kept the lubricant there, which was nearly finished. He had bought it and it had proved useful, though Yifan had believed he would not get to use it to its full potential quite yet. </p><p>Junmyeon watches with hooded eyes as Yifan puts a considerable amount of lubricant on his fingers. This would be his first time but Junmyeon is not afraid. Yifan has been so gentle, so patient with him that he knows he will be fine. So, he licks his lips and spreads his legs further. Yifan smiles and kisses his lips, just a simple brush of lips but Junmyeon can hear the unsaid “Trust me” as clear as day. </p><p>Yifan digs one hand on Junmyeon’s thick thighs and then, his finger brushes around Junmyeon’s entrance, rubbing, pausing and pushing in slowly. Yifan did not push in deeper, letting Junmyeon get used to the strange intrusion. He finds a rhythm and Junmyeon dances to it. His voice sounds hoarse and different to him when he whispers, “Don’t tease me…”</p><p>Yifan chuckles and pushes the first finger down to his knuckles, and then the second. Junmyeon tenses but Yifan eases it, the way he teases Junmyeon’s senses, his fingers making love. Junmyeon moans right when Yifan touches something inside him. Yifan smiles against Junmyeon’s cheek, kissing the salt collecting on the faint mole atop his lips. Inside the creases, wider and swollen, are infused by the warmth of Yifan’s fingertips. It is an unearthing of bliss, a pleasure that Junmyeon wonders if the very first human felt, evolutions ago. </p><p>Then, Yifan prepares for the final act. He puts the pillow under Junmyeon’s back and pushes his knees up and across. Yifan looks down at him, asking, “Are you ready?”</p><p>Junmyeon nods, licking his lips, breathing harshly, “Yes.”</p><p>Yifan penetrates slowly, filling Junmyeon, who quite forgets how to breathe and his fingers claw into the bedsheet. He exhales, “Oh, <em> oh. </em>”</p><p>Yifan pushes all the way in and stalls, letting Junmyeon adjust and Junmyeon blinks at the hardness, at the fullness. Junmyeon opens his eyes (not aware when he closed it) and he sees the way the light illuminates every goosebump that blanket Yifan’s skin. Junmyeon feels him, his fingertips tracing across Junmyeon’s side. Yifan moves a little, to the right and then to the left before he holds on to Junmyeon tightly and warms his skin radiantly. Junmyeon moans at the next thrust, nearly screaming his name. </p><p>Junmyeon is immersed in waves as his fingers try to find purchase on sunkissed skin. His thighs wrap around Yifan’s hips and Yifan tightly squeezes his behind as he thrusts hard and fast, deeper and deeper. Yifan has Junmyeon lusting for him as he rolls his hips, submerging himself into the wet heat, exhilarated. With every moan, Junmyeon feels weak and Yifan only goes deeper, swaying in and out—slow, gentle, fast and hard, all at once. There, it becomes, the lustful rhythm until euphoria consumes them both. </p><p>Yifan takes Junmyeon’s breath away at every stroke. Junmyeon’s body moves, back dancing into an arch. With a roll of Yifan’s hips, a grinding motion, Junmyeon’s skin is dressed in chills and he quivers, his entire soul quivers. He pulls Yifan over him, seeking his lips and Junmyeon takes the kiss, letting his tongue drown in the lust Yifan creates. </p><p>Yifan is throbbing inside him and Junmyeon wants that to consume him. He breathes out, “Please, please come inside me.”</p><p>Yifan heeds and soon, with a low groan and his fingers digging deeper into Junmyeon’s flesh, he spills inside Junmyeon. The sudden heat, the squelching sounds make Junmyeon gasp and before he can fathom, Yifan strokes him to a climax. His back arches, curving into Yifan as the heat in his blood swells and fills every corner of his body and soul. Yifan grips into him, tugging his body and waves of lust crash over Junmyeon. Sweat crawls down Junmyeon’s spine, and he is consumed by Yifan’s warmth. </p><p>They come down gently from their highs and they are still wrapped in each others’ arms. Junmyeon strokes the long valley of Yifan’s back and Yifan leaves featherlight kisses along Junmyeon’s shoulder. Yifan notices the stickiness between their bodies and he pushes himself up, saying, “We need to clean up.”</p><p>Junmyeon mumbles, “Hmm.” He is so sated, so completely relaxed that he only wishes to sleep and do nothing. He feels Yifan’s fingers carding through his sweaty hair and soon, Yifan leaves the bed. Junmyeon makes a noise of displeasure but Yifan returns with a chuckle and a wet towel. Yifan cleans them up as best as he can. When he is done, Junmyeon pulls Yifan closer and says, “Stay still, will you?”</p><p>When they are lying back down again, Yifan asks, “How are you? Does it hurt?”</p><p>Junmyeon shakes his head. “Not really, I’ll think about it tomorrow.”</p><p>Yifan laughs and nuzzles into Junmyeon’s neck. “Oh, you.”</p><p>Junmyeon says nothing; he is much too happy right now to speak. Yifan is beside him, in the wrinkled sheets and a warm breeze from the open window touches them. Their legs are tangled close and Yifan’s fingers draw lazy circles on his arm, sketching something. Junmyeon is happy.</p><p> </p><p>The next morning, when Junmyeon sneaks back to his room, Chorong sees him. She says nothing, does not call for the young master. She looks at the corridor that leads to Yifan’s room and she understands. She smiles to herself. She has always known this about Junmyeon, even if he is not aware of that.</p><p>As she heads back to the kitchen and starts preparation for breakfast, she remembers the time the eldest son had his Chinese friend over. She had found a photograph under Junmyeon’s bed when she was cleaning his room. It was a photograph of that friend and Junmyeon had scribbled angrily around his head. <em> Why? Why do I feel like this? To kiss him would be so wrong, but I want to do it. </em>Chorong was shocked, agitated but she returned the photograph where she found it. Later, she had remembered this salacious piece of literature that had travelled in her school a few months ago. Everyone had laughed and gasped and made the sign of the cross at the content. Two women in love with each other? It was absurd to most. But Chorong was moved by the heartfelt romance and the tragic end. </p><p>Chorong frowns a little; she understands now that love is not confined between a man and a woman but for somebody like Kim Junmyeon, who belongs to such a family? She puts down her knife and chopping board and stares out of the window, hoping to the heavens that his master does not suffer. He does not deserve it. </p><p> </p><p>Love, to Junmyeon, was something that perhaps only happens to protagonists in fiction. He knew it was not defined by the relationship between his parents and he was not entirely sure about his friends. But when he is with Yifan, he begins to wonder about his comprehension of love.</p><p>It has been five months since they began this clandestine affair. The family portrait is finished and already up on the wall. His mother already threw a small party to show it off and also perhaps to show Yifan off. While Junmyeon was happy Yifan got the recognition and the opportunity to network, he was also jealous when women flocked to Yifan, gushing about his work and trying to seduce him. Yifan had looked at him across the crowd and assured him with his smile that he belonged to no one but Junmyeon. </p><p>But love was not possession, was it? Junmyeon is aware that their time is limited and Yifan may not feel the same way as he does. He sighs and slumps over his study desk. Why must matters of the heart be so difficult? And that too, when one is in love with a man like Yifan? Artistic, empathetic, brilliant and yet, so modest, so humble. He could be clever one second and making a stupid comment the next. He could be so deadly passionate and charming when needed and then completely turn around and mellow down, ask for head pats and cuddles. Then—Junmyeon rubs his neck, which is astonishingly hot—the way Yifan makes love to him and then holds him like he is the most delicate thing in the world and even a single scratch would make Yifan despair. The duality in this man is truly something. </p><p>It is new, it is exhilarating and it sends his heart careening out of his being. And Junmyeon watches it go. He knows he is falling in love like the moon who finally feels the magic of the sun for the very first time. The light trickles into him, suffusing every last cell and Junmyeon wants to live in it, for eternity if he could. </p><p>Junmyeon straightens and then cups his cheek, smiling to himself. Is he turning into a sappy poet? Then, he hears his door creak open slowly. He turns his head around and he smiles wider when he sees the very man of his thoughts enter the room. Yifan, nowadays, braves a trip upstairs sometimes and stays with Junmyeon, especially if his parents are not home for the night. They have gone down to some event in Daegu, so that allowed Junmyeon this moment, where Yifan comes closer to him and leans over him, kissing his eyebrow. </p><p>“Are you studying too much?” Yifan asks.</p><p>Junmyeon sighs and puts his head on Yifan’s stomach, “My brain will melt out of my ears.” Yifan runs his fingers through Junmyeon’s hair and it is so soothing that Junmyeon closes his eyes and nearly falls asleep. “Mm, that’s nice.”</p><p>Yifan laughs, “Okay, then.” He pulls Junmyeon to his feet and drags him over to the bed. “You need to rest!”</p><p>Junmyeon wants to disagree but his body speaks for him as he yawns and his back aches. He lets Yifan drag him to the bed. Yifan lies down beside him and Junmyeon does not wait to wrap his arms around the other. Yifan tips his head back, kissing him. He tastes like sunshine, like Junmyeon has been kissed by the morning light and Junmyeon is the darkness dancing with the stars carelessly, breathlessly. And their lips meet softly, colour blooming in the atmosphere, the perfect most luminous darkness. When they break, the dawn breaks—a temporary bit when the sun can kiss the moon. </p><p>Junmyeon whispers, “If I say something right now, would I ruin everything?”</p><p>Yifan scowls, “What do you mean?”</p><p>Junmyeon sighs and hides under Yifan’s chin, “I think I’m falling in love with you, Yifan.”</p><p>Yifan stiffens and Junmyeon immediately curses himself and his big mouth. He prepares to pull away but Yifan keeps holding him, closer now. He exhales into Junmyeon’s hair and groans, “Fuck, if you know what you do to me.” He tips Junmyeon’s chin again and he says, “And if I say I feel the same? If I tell you I keep falling and falling, like summer rain falling on soft earth. I was afraid I couldn’t stop and <em> I </em>would ruin everything.”</p><p>Junmyeon gasps and his heart crawls into his mouth. He bumps his nose against Yifan’s and laughs, “Oh my god! You’re also a poet now, are you?”</p><p>Yifan laughs and traces Junmyeon’s jaw, “Well, I think you’re turning me into one.”</p><p>Love is truly a conundrum but in shared laughter and gazes that speak of nothing but reciprocal tenderness, love is surprisingly not that hard to understand.</p><p> </p><p>Not just Chorong, Joohyun gets to know too. She had noticed the dynamics between Junmyeon and Yifan but she did not consider anything else than friendship for some time. However, on the night that she returns home late (three in the morning, actually—she braves the wild parties at Yerim’s house only when her parents do not stay the night), she takes the backstairs and finds Yifan’s room to be empty. Wondering where he could have gone, she heads upstairs and decides to see what her brother is up to. She knows he studies late into the night with his exams fast approaching and maybe, she can go bother him for some time.  </p><p>When she opens the door to his bedroom, she is surprised to see him in bed...with the missing artist tightly wrapped around him. She shuts the door as quietly as she can in her inebriated state and her breath quickens. It was not mere friendship, was it? She had guessed it, had not she? Especially when the artist would look at his brother like he was the greatest art himself? Had she not seen the same look on Seungwan’s face when she would look at Sooyoung? She knows about her friends even if they hide it so very well. Are his brother and the artist the same too?</p><p>She smiles a little when she sits at her vanity. Junmyeon is experiencing something sweet—first love is precious, after all. But then her heart hurts. She has seen Seungwan holding back tears when Sooyoung announced her engagement to the Yoo heir. Joohyun saw the pain in Sooyoung’s eyes when she said those words with a smile. Joohyun had guessed and silently mourned for their failed love. She knows the same fate awaits Junmyeon.</p><p>As she rubs the makeup off her face, she tells herself that when she is sober enough, she will have to talk to Junmyeon.</p><p> </p><p>Another month passes, Yifan has finished Jongho and Eunyon’s portraits and it has been put aside to dry as he starts on Minseok’s portrait. A month since their hushed confessions. It is late at night again and it is raining outside. Winter is close and the rains have made the weather cooler. The windows are closed for the first time since Yifan took up residency in the room. Junmyeon is on the bed on his stomach, watching Yifan paint. His examinations were over, so he could spend more time with Yifan during the nights. If he yawned too much and nearly dozed off during breakfast, everyone blamed it on his sleep schedule being destroyed by studying late. No one knew where he was most nights and he would like to keep that way.     </p><p>Except, he has not managed to do that, not after the conversation he had with his older sister last week.</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon found it strange that Joohyun wanted him to accompany her for her shopping trip. Sooyoung, one of her friends, is getting married soon and Joohyun wanted two new dresses. Usually, Joohyun drags Chorong with her. But her insistence on Junmyeon for today made him wonder. She had some ulterior motive, of that he was sure. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At first, as they roamed about in Hongdae, Junmyeon was sure he was merely there to hold her bags. Two dresses turned into four new dresses, two new blouses and three new handbags. Junmyeon was getting tired, so Joohyun bribed him with new books. After fulfilling her promise, Joohyun drags Junmyeon to a coffee shop. Grateful for the respite, Junmyeon orders coffee and cookies for himself while Joohyun settles for tea. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As they wait for their orders, Joohyun’s stance changes. Her smile becomes softer, her elbows come to rest on the table and she tucks her hair behind her ear, and Junmyeon recognises this. It is when Joohyun has something serious to say, she does all of that. Then, she clasps her hands and twists her fingers, chewing on her lower lip. She is hesitant, trying to collect her words. Junmyeon wonders if this is about the Lee heir she is involved with. They have not broken up, have they? Junmyeon is suddenly concerned and he leans across the table, covering her hands with his. He asks, “Hey, you okay?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Joohyun laughs and rubs her face, “I was about to ask you that!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon frowns, “Me? What about me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Joohyun swallows and quietly says, “I mean, I mean...about you...and Yifan.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon falls back on the chair and his lips part. A chill travels down his spine and turns his legs to lead and there is a fist over his heart, made of iron and squeezing it tighter as every second passes. He grabs the edge of the table and his breath falls out of rhythm. He hears the scraping of a chair and there is a hand on his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles down his back. He realises it is his sister but he cannot say anything. Joohyun fills his panicked silence with a gentle voice, “Jun, Jun, I’m not mad at you, just worried for you.” Joohyun cups his face and forces Junmyeon to look at her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Joohyun’s heart twists when she sees the unshed tears pooling in Junmyeon’s eyes. She says, “Listen, you’re my brother and I won’t love you any less if you were different from everyone else. I’m merely worried for you, okay? You’ve to be careful, I don’t want you to be hurt.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon inhales and his lips wobble. But instead of judgement and disgust, he sees kindness and acceptance in his sister’s eyes. He tucks his head on her shoulder and takes a deep, deep breath. “I’m fine, as fine as I can be.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Joohyun rubs his head and asks, “Do you love him?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Does he love you?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Joohyun bites the insides of her cheek. She chooses her next words carefully, “Jun, I’ll not tell you how to live your life, but you do know, people like us...we come with expectations. If you do anything, it won’t only affect you but also him.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon raises his head and he repeats her words over and over in his mind. His head falls into his palm and for the first time, he tries to look at this subjectively. Joohyun is right, he cannot only think of himself, he has to think of Yifan and his career. He suddenly feels cold at the thought of their relationship affecting Yifan’s prospect. He tucks his head back on Joohyun’s shoulder and sighs. Joohyun quietly says, “I know there are places on this earth where you can be anything you want. But life is difficult for you, and Yifan, and…” Junmyeon sees her swallow and her eyes become sad, “For two of my friends here.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Junmyeon frowns at that but from the faraway dispirited look in his sister’s eyes, he realises he should not poke her about it He is simply at ease now that he knows how his sister thinks. He murmurs, “Thank you noona, this is why you’re my favourite.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Joohyun chuckles and ruffles his hair. “Now, don’t tell oppa that!” </em>
</p><p>“What has got you thinking so hard?”</p><p>Junmyeon jolts out of his reverie and finds Yifan beside him, on his back and gazing at Junmyeon with the fondest look in his eyes. Junmyeon shifts on his back and Yifan pulls him close to him. Yifan smells like paint, turpentine oil, smoke and something else that is distinctly him. Junmyeon of the past would not say that this was what love smells to him, but he would say it does now. Junmyeon murmurs, his eyes trained to the ceiling, “Would you take me with you? To Paris?”</p><p>Junmyeon feels Yifan stop breathing for a second, probably taken aback by his words. Junmyeon does not say why he says it—or maybe he does. His conversation with his sister that day has left him mulling over his present and his future. There was no deadline hanging over his head but Junmyeon cannot ignore the circumstances now. He tilts his head back and asks, “What if I want to leave with you?”</p><p>Yifan’s eyes soften and his smile is patient and kind when he says, “But can you live with me Junmyeon? I can’t promise us a life like yours right now.”</p><p>Junmyeon pushes himself up on his elbow. He is upset, affronted that Yifan would think like that but he is not entirely wrong. Junmyeon knows he belongs to a privileged section of society and he has never experienced hardship when it came to shelter and sustenance. He puts his head on Yifan’s chest and sighs, “Then, what do I do?”</p><p>Yifan hums, “Wait for a little.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>Yifan sighs and sits up. He takes Junmyeon’s hands in his own and says, “There are places in this world where you and I won’t be seen as bad things, you know. We could live together and no one would question us.” Yifan cups his face and says, “I can paint all day and you can be my muse.”</p><p>Junmyeon chuckles, “That’s all I’ll be?”</p><p>Yifan bumps his nose against Junmyeon’s, “Well, you see, I have this idea of a series of nude paintings and—”</p><p>Junmyeon lightly shoves him and Yifan exaggerates his action, falling on his back with a loud grunt. Junmyeon crawls over him and cages him between his body. He smiles a little but his heart breaks. “So, you want me to wait?”</p><p>“Can you?”</p><p>Junmyeon tosses the question around in his head. He has never been a rebellious child, he was not even a picky eater when young. Can he forget about the life he has known and start anew with this man who has all of his heart, his body and his soul? Can he leave behind his family and friend and embark on something new and dangerous with Yifan? He knows his answer. He wants to live for himself, for once in his lifetime. He throws his hands around Yifan and mumbles into his shoulder, “I can.”</p><p> </p><p>All good things come to an end. </p><p>It is the end of February. Yifan is done with all the paintings except for Junmyeon’s. In the last few months, many things happened and Junmyeon made memories that he knows he will treasure forever. He will remember the trip to Jeju island, where they stayed in Chanyeol's beach house. Junmyeon and Yifan had picked out a room with an interconnecting door and it was the perfect cover because no one knew they were together for the nights. He will remember Yifan’s birthday, where he presented Yifan with a sweater he had made with Joohyun’s help (and had managed to keep it a secret for a whole month). He will remember the other trip they made to Pocheon in December where Minseok tried to teach Yifan how to ski but the man failed at it all too miserably. Junmyeon will remember the fireplace in their room, he will remember the way the golden light covered Yifan’s skin as they laid down next to it. </p><p>In all these months, Yifan has been sketching Junmyeon in the garden, on the window, at his study desk, on the bed only covered with the sheet and sometimes uncovered as well. Junmyeon had blushed furiously at those latter kinds of drawings. He had made Yifan swear an oath that he would never ever show them to anybody. Yifan had sworn that they were only for his eyes anyway.</p><p>
  <em> “Mine, you’re mine when you’re like that. I’m a jealous man, Kim Junmyeon. No one would ever see you like that, I promise. You’re for my eyes only when I’m making love to you.” </em>
</p><p>The words had made Junmyeon blush some more. Oh, how casually Yifan can utter such things and not bat an eyelid! Junmyeon did not know that Yifan could become a poet too. It was only one night when Yifan was silently painting and Junmyeon was browsing through the sketchbook when he found a few lines scribbled on the back of a drawing. It was in Chinese but Junmyeon could read the language (even though he has no confidence holding a whole conversation in it). It left him blushing from head to toe.</p><p><em> In the velvet of the night, </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> when the air stood still, </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> and all you heard were </em><br/>
<em> Mockingbirds, he made </em> <em><br/>
feel like a million butterflies.</em></p><p>They were careful. During the day, they behaved as if they were good friends. Like Junmyeon did not spend most of his nights tangled in Yifan’s bedsheets, his large hands marking him, branding his flesh and his soul. Like he did not fall to his knees and murmured prayers against Yifan’s skin. They were so very careful to never look at each other for more than a second because if they did, everyone could <em> see </em> their desire, their love.</p><p>But what shines brighter than day, burns more violently than a star, cannot stay obscured forever. It happens and it happens without them noticing. It is the end of February and Yifan has only put charcoal to the last canvas when Eunyon visits him. Yifan keeps his space clean and always, <em> always </em> removes every sign of their lovemaking. But he misses one loose page from his other, more intimate sketchbook. As Eunyon turns to leave, she notices it under the bed. Thinking it must be important for the artist, she picks it up. When her eyes land on the page, she recognises the slope of shoulders and the curve of the neck. At first, she wants to grab Yifan and ask for an explanation, but then she notices the look on the subject’s face. It is one of happiness, of bliss and Eunyon remembers all the mornings when Junmyeon almost fell asleep in his bowl of porridge. She swallows as she understands and she quietly puts back the page where she found it. Yifan, so immersed in his work, does not pay attention to the woman.</p><p>Eunyon moves fast. She vaguely alludes to it to her husband. Kim Jongho understands there is depravity in Yifan and that he can become a bad influence on Junmyeon. So, when February ends, Yifan finds himself in Jongho’s study, staring at a check for an amount they did not agree on. It is three times more than what they had agreed upon. </p><p>Yifan says, “Sir, I don’t understand.”</p><p>Jongho clears his throat, “There’s nothing to understand. I’m letting you go and giving you a bonus while at it. We’re happy with your work.”</p><p>Yifan frowns, “But I haven’t finished Junmyeon’s—”</p><p>Jongho raises his voice a little, “You don’t have to worry about that! Pack your bags and leave by tomorrow morning.”</p><p>“But, sir—”</p><p>Jongho gets to his feet and his voice has an edge to it that freezes Yifan to his bones when he says, “I <em> do not </em>want you around my son anymore, do you understand?”</p><p>Yifan widens his eyes and he grasps it. Someone knows and they told Jongho. Fear grips him and he feels the earth sliding from underneath his feet. He bunches the check in his hand as he thinks. He bows his head and nods for now. Jongho dismisses him.</p><p>Yifan quickly returns to his room and grabs his box, the one that his father made for him, his first and only birthday present from his father. He grabs a shirt, cuts one sleeve and writes a letter. As he finishes writing, he hears a commotion. He is about to race out to the corridor when Joohyun and Chorong enter the room and lock the door. Chorong gasps, “Please don’t go outside!”</p><p>Yifan glares at them; he can hear Junmyeon shouting. Joohyun squeezes her eyes shut and begs, “Please, don’t. You don’t want to make this worse for him, do you?”</p><p>Yifan finally returns to his senses. He fists his hands and asks them, ”You two...know?”</p><p>Chorong and Joohyun share a look and the latter answers, “I have known for some time and so has Chorong.” She curls her fingers around Chorong’s wrist and says, “But we weren’t the ones who told father. I didn’t even know Chorong knew until she came running to me last night and told me all about the conversation she had heard between my mother and father. Mother found out as well, Yifan.”</p><p>Yifan feels his knees weaken and he crashes to the floor. He hears more screaming from upstairs and then a door loudly shuts. Eunyon shouts, “Chorong!”</p><p>Chorong whispers, “I’ve to go.” Joohyun releases her and she rushes off.</p><p>Joohyun locks the door behind Chorong and kneels in front of Yifan. She pulls him into her embrace and says, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I want to help you two, but I know I can’t. If father never got to know, you two still would have had a chance to leave.”</p><p>Yifan pulls back and asks, “You knew about Junmyeon’s plan?”</p><p>Joohyun nods, “He told me.”</p><p>Yifan swallows and his chest clenches. He puts the box in Joohyun’s hands and says, “I’ll have to leave by tomorrow, can you give Junmyeon this? Please?”</p><p>Joohyun clutches the box and nods, “I’ll try.”</p><p>Yifan makes an attempt when the house quietens but then he finds a man standing guard right outside his door. They will not even let him see Junmyeon before he leaves? He cries out in frustration and weeps into his pillow. He ruined it, he ruined it all for him and for Junmyeon. They had made plans to leave by May. Yifan would leave first and then Junmyeon would follow after his graduation. No one will have to know and they would become unknown faces in a bustling European city. </p><p>It all feels like a dream now. Or rather a nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>It is a nightmare for Junmyeon. As soon as he returned from class, his parents entered his bedroom and made remarks about his relationship with Yifan. Junmyeon wanted to protest, to deny but it all crashed. Jongho ordered him to stay in his room and when Junmyeon tried to object that, the door shut on his face and he heard the key turn in the lock. As he rattled the doorknob and pushed his shoulder into the heavy oak door, he realised with a sinking feeling that they had locked him in. He cannot see Yifan.</p><p>He could not sleep that night, not even Chorong’s quiet whispers of Yifan’s termination reaches him. Yifan is leaving in the morning. Junmyeon stays up all night and cries, prays, begs. When dawn breaks, he does find some rest but it is not comfortable. He wakes up and tries the door again. It is locked and he agonises all over the floor, deteriorating inside. </p><p>Some hours later, the door opens and Joohyun steps in, her eyes wide with fear and the breakfast tray in her hand is shaking. She whispers, “He’s leaving Junmyeon.”</p><p>Junmyeon is weak but the last outburst of determination makes him stumble forward. He manages to only reach the window that overlooks the courtyard. He finds Yifan walking down the driveway and he screams, “Yifan!”</p><p>Yifan stops and looks behind him. His eyes widen and Junmyeon knows the rivers down his face flows down Yifan’s face too. Junmyeon reaches forward, his upper body is hanging precariously on the edge. Yifan waves his hand and mouths, “Don’t. I love you.” It is the last time Junmyeon sees that beautiful smile, those gentle and dark eyes. It is the last time and Junmyeon knows everything, every little piece of happiness, leaves him that day.</p><p>Junmyeon crumbles; Yifan turns around again and continues walking. Joohyun comes to stand behind Junmyeon and uses all her strength to drag Junmyeon back to his room. She does not want her brother to suffer any more than he already has. When they are in the room, Junmyeon sways into her and falls at her feet. Joohyun gasps and touches his forehead. He is burning up with fever. She shouts, “Eomma! Chorong!”</p><p>Junmyeon remains unconscious for a whole day, burning now and shivering next as delirium sets in and has him muttering incoherent things. Joohyun refuses to leave his bedside and it aches her whenever she recognises Yifan’s name on her brother’s parched lips. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>1970</b>
</p><p>Many seasons have passed since then. Junmyeon gets enlisted and stops talking to his parents. Joohyun and Chorong remain the only people who know why. Minseok goes off to Busan and gets married. Joohyun too marries and leaves but does not go too far and comes to check on her brother as much as she can. Soon, it is his turn and Junmyeon does not even say anything when they find Moon Byuli for him.</p><p>His fiance is pretty, well-mannered and related to a powerful political family. It is a match made in heaven but Junmyeon’s heart is obviously not in it. However, on the eve of their wedding, Byuli pulls him to an empty room and says, “I may be marrying you but I don’t know if I can love you.”</p><p>Junmyeon is surprised; in the last months of their courtship, he thought she was affectionate enough. He did his best too. He says, “Okay. But if there’s someone else in your life, you can tell me. It’s not too late, I can always tell them it was me and not you—”</p><p>Byuli laughs but it is bitter, “It’s a woman, Junmyeon. Even if you break off this engagement, it’s not like I can marry her now, can I?”</p><p>Junmyeon’s eyes widen. He did not expect this and the situation right now makes him laugh. Byuli looks at him and he notices the anger in her eyes. He waves his hand and says, “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at me. Or perhaps our fate.” He takes her hand and says, “I, too, can’t ever love you completely Byuli. You’re wonderful and I appreciate our friendship. But it’s the same for me.” When Byuli raises an eyebrow, Junmyeon admits in a hushed voice, “I’m in love with a man.”</p><p>Byuli lips part and she bows her head. She laughs again and it is mirthless, “Our fate is a Greek tragedy, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>That night, Junmyeon pulls out the box from under his bed. He tells himself this is the last time. Tomorrow, he will put the box in the attic and try to forget, even though he knows he can never truly erase the seasons he shared with Yifan. First love takes too much from you and leaves behind a crumbling abandoned house that you cannot bear to pull down.</p><p>
  <em> Dear Junmyeon, my love, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I have nothing behind me, nothing ahead of me, but you do. I do not want you to suffer, so I am leaving. Please know I love you and that I will always perhaps love you, carrying a piece of you in my heart. I cannot give you anything so I leave these with you. Remember me, remember us as we were and no more my beloved. The world is a cruel place for a love like ours. Maybe, one day, we will see each other again when the world becomes a better place. I had once asked you to wait but as I write this knowing you’re trapped upstairs, I know it is wrong to ask you to wait. If life finds us again, I will see you then. Like the stars and moon remains eternal, I will carry this hope eternally as well.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I love you, I love you to the moon and back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yours forever, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yifan </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the poetry here is by M.FireChild.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. iii. 2010</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Baekhyun and Sehun are silent after Junmyeon finishes his story. They are back in Junmyeon’s study, where the ornate box lies on the desk. Its contents are spilt across the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehun is the first one to break the silence, “I’m so sorry, appa.” And he truly is. He thinks about his life with Zitao and the things he had to overcome to accept his own sexuality and then deal with prejudices. His parents stayed with him throughout and now that he knows why, his heart hurts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon leans on the table and smiles, shaking his head, “I’m not sorry entirely. I still had a happy life and I had you two. I won’t change that for anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun leans back in his chair and asks, “Did you love eomma? Did she love you, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon nods, “We did love each other but I don’t think you can compare it to what you two have with your spouses.” He sighs, “Love...doesn’t mean the same for everyone, does it?” Junmyeon glances at Baekhyun, notes the way his eldest is frowning at the ceiling. He is finding it hard to accept Junmyeon’s past and the true nature of his parent’s relationship. Junmyeon feels guilt wracking him. He knows how close Baekhyun was to Byuli, how much her death hit him. Maybe, he should not have asked his son to do this for him. He quietly says, “You two should go sleep. You’ve found him and I’m grateful for that. Now, it depends on him reading the mail and making his choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took some time for Baekhyun and Sehun to find Yifan, especially when Wu Yifan technically did not exist anymore. He had changed his name legally to Kris Wu and it was only a society paper from Paris in the 1970s that directed them towards the truth. Yifan held his debut exhibition in Venice at that time and the papers spelt his name as Wufan. A small paragraph dedicated to him informed them that the artist had lived in Seoul once upon a time. They had shown the image to Junmyeon to confirm and when Junmyeon had nodded with tears in his eyes, Sehun looked for more information on Wufan, who became Kris Wu in the 1980s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They learned of his success in Europe, China and Southeast Asia. When they learned Kris was now living in Thailand with his son and son-in-law, Junmyeon expressed his desire to reach out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehun nods and gets to his feet first. Baekhyun follows and he turns around for a moment, perhaps to say something but he thinks better of it and murmurs, “Good night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sehun and Baekhyun are outside, the latter exhales, “I need a drink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehun chuckles, “I have some whiskey in my room, come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehun, when he is home, sleeps in the room Junmyeon used to live in, so when they take the back corridor to access the stairs, Baekhyun stops in front of the room Yifan used to be in. It is now an empty space but it used to be the room where the food would be served during big parties. Sehun even had his reception there. Baekhyun opens the room and turns on the light. It is empty and smells like a room locked up too long. There are chairs and broken tables spread all across the floor. He says, “I can’t believe it, you know, that appa experienced all of that in this house, that he was holding in all of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehun joins Baekhyun and murmurs, “We never know our parents as humans, do we hyung? We see them as father and mother and then don’t think they can have a past or a life that has nothing to do with us.” He sighs, crossing his arms, “Someday, our children will realise this too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun looks at Sehun and he knows Sehun is right. How much did he know about the man Kim Junmyeon? He only ever knew the father, the man who doted on his children, cared for his wife and adored his grandchildren. And now, Junmyeon wants to see his former lover again and Baekhyun feels odd about this. He slowly says, “Sehun, am I being selfish?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehun frowns, “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun swallows, “What if, what if appa wants to leave us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehun smiles and even though his own chest tightens, he says, “And who are we to stop him? He has dedicated so much of his life to us, don’t you think he deserves to find his own happiness too? And it’s not like he has explicitly said anything.” He puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “And it’s not like Kris Wu would even want the same thing. Appa just wants to see him once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun chuckles and his voice trembles. He rubs his face and nods, “Yes, yes you’re right. And it’s not like Thailand is too far away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly,” Sehun claps his hands on Baekhyun’s shoulders. “Now, let’s get drunk and watch something shitty to cheer us up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun laughs, allowing Sehun to push him out of the room. “Bet they are running Secret Garden reruns again!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another week has passed and Yifan has read the message on his mobile phone at least twenty times. Junmyeon is coming here, today, in the afternoon. Yifan had prepared for this day, he had shaved, brushed his long, unruly hair and even put on respectable clothes. But his nervousness does not dissipate. Yukhei and Ten teased him for it and Yifan could only accept it with his face gradually heating up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After plenty of discussions, they all decided it would be best for Yifan to welcome Junmyeon in the house and not the cafe. How can they talk in peace with all the patrons coming and going? Yifan agreed; he was not sure if he wanted to have his emotional upheaval in public. When he woke up today, he told himself he will be fine. He told himself that there is nothing but vague remnants of fondness in his heart for Junmyeon. He told himself that it will not be like some overtly cinematic scene when he sees Junmyeon again for the first time in forty years because their lives have changed, they have changed. So, the surprise will be dulled and Yifan will not feel much. Like his heart will not suddenly leap into his mouth before being yanked back down and then thrash like a bird in a cage in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, Yifan realises that best-laid plans tend to go awry, no matter what. But that is exactly what his heart is doing. It has developed a whole new life of its own now and will not listen to Yifan as Kim Junmyeon walks up the driveway, flanked by Yukhei and Ten, Bright in Yukhei’s arms, who just made Junmyeon laugh at something. Junmyeon has not seen him yet since he is carefully hidden behind a massive houseplant on the porch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, baba!” Yukhei shouts and Yifan slowly gets to his feet. When their eyes meet, the years melt away and Junmyeon’s cheeks lift in a soft smile. Yifan, too, smiles and finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, after so many decades, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon is happy, so incredibly happy but terrified as well. On the flight from Incheon, he was excited; but when the wheels landed on the tarmac, his nervousness returned. It was not hard to find Yukhei and his husband at the airport. They also had their son with them and Junmyeon’s eyes had welled up knowing how Yifan was a grandparent as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They told him about Yifan’s life and career as they drove to the house. Junmyeon listened with awe and his chest swelled with pride knowing how far Yifan had gone. He also learns that Yukhei is his adopted son and Junmyeon understands what the young man tried to imply. Yifan never married, unlike Junmyeon. When they reach the house, Junmyeon cannot help but like it immediately. Pristine white walls and the lush greenery all around is beautiful and soothing to his eyes. He says so to the couple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bright mumbles something to his father and when Yukhei translates it to Junmyeon, he cannot help but laugh. The young one is curious to know who this grandfather is; if he is a boring old person as well. Then, Yukhei shouts, “Ah, baba!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon turns his head away from Bright and looks ahead. There he stands, Wu Yifan, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed as he blinks at Junmyeon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon inaudibly gasps, suddenly afraid that the two young people beside him will hear the wild tattoo of his heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yukhei and Ten usher Junmyeon to the porch and pull out a chair for him. When Junmyeon sits down, his chest feels tight, like a dam overflowing. Yifan is still so tall, even though his back is a little bit hunched and his hair is still long but now a pale grey colour. His eyes are still the same, now decorated with multiple folds. Junmyeon quietly says, “It’s been so long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan clears his throat, reaching for Junmyeon, who gives him his hand without really thinking about it. Yifan’s fingers are calloused and when his thumb rubs Junmyeon’s knuckles, he thinks back to the days when his skin was smoother and Yifan would do the same. Yifan says, “If my Korean sounds weird, don’t mind it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon laughs and the sound makes Yifan’s heart pound again. It has not changed, how has it not? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan releases Junmyeon’s hand and asks, “How, how have you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon tilts his head to the side and grins, “Me? Alright, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan shifts a little in his seat. “I, uh, I heard about your marriage and family.” He licks his lips as he confesses, “I was in Seoul for some days in ninety-four.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon furrows his eyebrows and a pang of hurt hits his heart. He tries to conceal it as he murmurs, “Really? I wish you had told me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan sighs, “I wanted to but, but would that have been right?” He looks at Junmyeon again, making sure to hold his gaze, “I didn’t want to just show up and make you upset.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon’s pain vanishes when he understands. He leans forward and smiles, “I wouldn’t have been upset, Yifan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan blinks, “You wouldn’t? You had your life and…” he hears Yukhei and Ten laugh at something from within the house, “And I had mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon hears it too. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan adds, “It would’ve been rude, inconsiderate, of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their conversation pauses as Yukhei and Ten show up with tea. Ten asks after Junmyeon again and in halting English, Junmyeon tells him he is alright. When the couple leaves them alone again, Junmyeon looks at Yifan as he sips his tea. “You’re different in my memories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan chuckles, “Well, I was in my twenties then!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon too finds himself laughing, “Yes, there’s that! But it’s not just the youth.” He hums for a moment, trying to string together the right words, “But I don’t think you’ve changed a lot. You’re still so sure of yourself and look, you accomplished the life you wanted. I read and heard all about it!” His voice lowers, “I don’t know if it matters, but I’m proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan’s breath catches but he manages a scoff, “Of course it matters!” To know Junmyeon is proud of him makes him happy in so many ways. But then, he feels sheepish, rubbing his neck, “I’m embarrassed to say but I didn’t know much about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon laughs, “It’s okay! I wasn’t some famous artist after all!” He informs, “But I do have two sons and four grandchildren who drive me up the wall but I won’t have it any other way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan nods, “Ah, I just got one grandson, but I know what you mean. He has chosen the night owl life already at this tender age.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They laugh and then Yifan realises something. Maybe, their paths </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to cross again when they have lived their lives: children, family, home, the next generation. Maybe, it is now </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>time again. They finish their tea talking about their children. Then, when they are done, Yifan smiles as he gets to his feet. He extends his hand towards Junmyeon and asks, “Would you like to see the gallery?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junmyeon brightens and stands up. He takes Yifan’s hand and says, “Of course! I’m not here to just see your face, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They share another laugh and then, they take the path behind the house that connects to the gallery, hand in hand. Junmyeon thinks, hoping is hard when you do not know what time will bring. But as he glances at Yifan, older now and wiser too, he thinks it is still worth it at the end.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>aaaaand the end~</p><p>I leave it to you, the readers, to decide what comes next for them. Personally, I think Junmyeon should just move to Thailand and live out the rest of his days with Yifan. Let me know what you think!</p><p>Edit: I can't believe I completely forgot to mention the importance of the cut sleeve, the real fact that inspired this story in the first place.<br/>Homosexual men in 1800s (and maybe even before and after that, I just read about one account during the Opium Wars) China were referred to as cutsleeves due to one legendary tale where a king unable to wake his sleeping lover, who was laid out on his sleeve, cut the whole sleeve off to not disturb him. I'm not too sure about the origins of the king and his male lover, though I am aware homosexuality wasn't a taboo in ancient China, so there must be some truth there. Anyway, this little tidbit made me very emo and I wanted to write a whole story for it I guess.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>chapters will be posted daily!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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